An Acolyte of Zero
by Shadenight123
Summary: Louise...summoned something different. An Acolyte of Warcraft Three, the most basic and seemingly useless unit in the history of the Scourge. However, when you look at it in a different way, the Acolyte can create enormous constructions out of sheer nothingness provided there are resources. The most basic unit, becomes the most important. Especially when it follows his own rules.
1. Arrival

An Acolyte of Zero

Chapter One

The Lich King ordered, and he strived to obey.

His flesh was pale, sickly grey. The loose purple and black robes covered his entire frame, safe for a bit of his face —even that half-covered by a thick blue scarf. A long wavy dagger was tied to the sash at his belt, a pouch containing a few ointments and poisons tinkled against it with every step he took.

He had no need for more. His mortal life gifted to the Cult of the Damned, his eternal soul bound by the shackles of ice and magic that the Lich King possessed.

Once, he had been a man, a father of a beautiful girl, a husband of a wonderful wife, a devoted son of a kind mother and proud father. Then the sickness spread through the fields of wheat, and one by one they left him alone.

The Cult found him next, and offered him a chance for revenge.

He knew, in his fever-maddened brain, that it made no sense for Lordaeron to be responsible. Why not blame the cult? Why not blame those who brought the plague?

Because they were but hands guided by the despair wrought upon their very bodies, because they were victims, just like him.

He was one of the lucky, of the blessed. He had been part of the Lich King's own retinue, of his own force. He had called forth powerful Necropolis from thin nothingness, erected mines from the ground to grasp at the precious minerals needed. He had been there, to dig out corpses from the cemetery and turn them to the cause of the Undead.

He then moved to the retinue of Kel'Thuzad, the great Lich. He had no name though. He had no rank, nothing that made him different from his other brothers or sisters. Some, the very blessed, became Shades.

He wondered if such an honour would befall him too, if ever the need arose for another to walk in the sacrificial pits.

At his fingertips was the power to bring forth from the Beyond the magnificent structures of the Scourge, but he would give it all away in exchange for even a fleeting instant as a Shade, a creature of perfection in its death.

It was as he trudged upon the chiselled ice of one of Naxxramas' many corridors that he heard a voice. It was feminine, no older than a child's and speaking strange words he could not understand.

He curled his lips in disgust. There were no children in Naxxramas. No child would survive the cold, nor would he or she be able to live so close to the blessed frozen chill of Kel'Thuzad.

The voice of the child grew stronger with each passing moment. Maybe an experiment? Maybe an abomination or a Ghoul who recalled something of its past life pleaded to its captor, or maybe it was just the howling wind so high in the sky that made his ear hear that which was not possible.

He stilled a few steps after.

There was a perfect green oval in front of him. He clasped his arms tightly, letting them disappear beneath his the long and wide sleeves of his robes as he walked forward.

Someone summoned his assistance from the Great Beyond. He knew the pain would be immense, but that was how the Lich King summoned to assist.

His steps landed him in the middle of tall luscious green grass. The light sheen of frost on his clothes melted away beneath the sun of a normal spring day, as the drops of water fell on the ground in little dribbles. His eyes, dark and uncaring, settled on his surroundings.

There were wizards eying him carefully. He looked back at them with an equal amount of distrust and of scorn. They all seemed healthy. It was so wrong. Was this not Stratholme? Where did the Lich King summon him?

Their tongue was strange, foreign to his ears. He looked around for a moment. No whispers reached his ears on buildings to call forth. No orders barked near him to summon a Crypt, or to haunt a mine for other like him to work.

This was not —it could simply not be— Lordaeron. Where then, had he ended?

A pink haired girl, wearing a black mantle and a white shirt beneath, trudged forward with a visibly angered face. He carefully slid his hand towards his dagger, but stilled midway. The girl gesticulated, screamed at him even, but he could not draw the blade to silence her permanently.

She huffed, and then gestured for him to descend to her level.

Was she asking him to kneel in front of her?

He scoffed. Where was the Death Knight? The Lich? The Dreadlord? Even a Crypt Lord would have been a strong enough Hero to follow.

The little girl seemed to take affront to his scoffing, and grabbed his robes to pull him down. He refused…

…and he backhanded her.

She fell on the ground in a heap, her hands clenching the grass as tears began to pool in her eyes. He locked eyes with the nearing wizard, who spoke once more in that foreign tongue of theirs. He looked particularly angered, but for what reason, he could not comprehend.

It was then that a light of understanding dawned into the brain of the bald wizard, and his gaze lingered for a moment from the girl to him.

He said something to the girl, who stood up massaging her cheek. There was a red welt forming where he had hit her. He scoffed once more. The troubles of having living flesh —of being healthy and with a beating heart that never stopped…if not occasionally…he did not have them.

The girl gestured to him and then to her. He raised an eyebrow, watching her turn a shade of red as she puckered her lips, as if to initiate a kiss. She pointed at him next.

Around them, he could hear the laughter of the other children, all pointing and yelling things in that strange language of theirs.

This was extremely against protocol.

He was supposed to receive orders; be they ranging from erecting a Necropolis to Cursing a Mine to serve the Scourge…He wasn't supposed to kiss a brat too young for his tastes.

Not that he had any tastes. The sicknesses that permeated his body and prepared him from glorious undeath stripped away the mortal wants from his entire body.

He still ate, but most of it was out of habit rather than actual need.

He looked around for a mine, leaving completely befuddled the still 'puckered-lips' girl. Why wasn't there a mine nearby? Was he there for no reason? Gold, Lumber…there was nothing around him.

He began to walk.

The girl screeched something in her strange language, looking positively affronted. He ignored her. There had to be a mine nearby.

He didn't have the starting resources. They always summoned him with the starting resources. It was part of the protocol.

Without the protocol, how else had the Scourge managed to conquer Azeroth?

Even though some minor places still resisted, it was clear the Scourge would conquer the entire world.

If he had looked back, he would have seen the older mage shake his head at the young girl's pleads, before seeing said pink haired wizard charge at him.

Since he hadn't looked back, he was utterly unprepared for the flying tackle that flung him on the ground or for the fact that the girl was now pushing his blue scarf down to expose his lips.

She made a face of disgust, but kissed him all the same while pointing her wand at him.

The next moment, he pushed her off and prepared to slice her neck with his dagger.

He stilled just as the blade was about to reach her flesh, as he ground his teeth and screamed in anger and pain while his hand began to burn from the sensation of…of something being branded on his skin.

"Miss Vallière!" he heard as he gritted his teeth and removed his dagger from her throat.

"Ah…Ah…I did it," the girl mumbled in a tongue he could now understand. "Stupid commoner, to…"

"Acolyte," he hissed back, surprising both the girl and the older wizard —their surprise was visible on their faces. "I am an Acolyte of the Scourge, and you are not following protocol. Where is the Ghoul? Where are two of my fellow acolytes? Where is the Mine and where is the Necropolis?"

"Listen here! I have no idea what you're talking about!" the girl exclaimed. "I am Louise le Blanc Françoise de la Vallière! You're my familiar, I summoned you and you have to serve me!"

"Don't be silly." The Acolyte grumbled back. "You're not a Death Knight; you're not a Lich or a Dreadlord. Clearly, you're not even a Cryptlord. If you summoned me here, where is your steed then? Where is the rest of the army? Where is the call of Ner'zhul? Is this cursed ground in your opinion? You call this cursed?" he stomped his right foot on the luscious green grass.

"I'm afraid I am not familiar with your terms, sir," the older wizard said then. "But it is true that Mademoiselle Vallière summoned you, the runes on your hand mark you as her familiar after all."

He sneered in distaste, looking from the small pink haired girl to the runes on his hand.

"So, what is our mission then?" he turned to look at the girl. "Who is the enemy we must defeat? Where must the Scourge grow to fight? What if the enemy is already preparing his troops as we speak?"

He looked around. "Have you at least done the Tutorial?"

There was a sputtering noise from the girl. "What are you talking about!? Professor Colbert," Louise turned with a pleading look towards the balding man. "Please…he's mad!"

"Now, this is the first time a human has been summoned, Mademoiselle Vallière. Maybe he is just tired from the ordeal?"

Louise bit her lower lip in thought, before nodding.

"I understand Professor…"

"Ah! Louise the Zero summoned a mad commoner!? Really, what else to expect!" there was a sharp bout of laughter from a dark skinned girl with bountiful breasts and flaming red hair.

The Acolyte remained quiet. He began to tap his right foot on the ground.

The older wizard looked to the rest of his students and then exclaimed. "Let us all go back now!"

In between snickers, the students all flew away levitating. He watched them go impassively —stupid mages, always floating around. In the end, only he and what was his master —apparently— remained.

"Well?" he finally stated. "The Damned stand ready…"

"You're right about being damned," Louise mumbled. "Damned familiar."

"Thank you, master," he nodded his head.

"Yeah, that's right! You're supposed to be my familiar, you got that!?"

"I am an Acolyte; my life is sworn to Ner'Zhul."

"Well, Ner'Zhul whatsoever isn't here! Here we pray to Brimir!"

He raised an eyebrow. "Who is this Brimir?"

"You don't know of the Founder?" Louise's eyes widened. She looked around fearfully. "Thank Brimir they all left…only I could summon a faithless heathen…" she hung her head low. "Why can't anything go right, at least once?"

"Indeed, you are a complete newbie at this, are you not?" the Acolyte drawled. "Let us start with the basics then…do you have three hundred pieces of gold?"

Louise sputtered. "Wh…What? You mean Ecus?"

"Three hundred pieces of gold, do you possess them or not?"

"Of course I do!" she replied with a hiss. "I have at least one thousand!"

"Very well," he acquiesced. "Now, give me the order to summon forth a Necropolis."

He looked around. The site wasn't the very best but it was the starting site. Probably, the objective was something like amassing troops. He'd need the lumber…but sometimes units just appeared from the corner of the map when certain requisites were met.

Louise clenched her hands. "You're mad, completely mad."

"I am an Acolyte of the Scourge. I live to obey, master." Then he grumbled. "If only you had read the damn manual…"

"What was that?"

"Nothing, master. So, where should the Necropolis be placed?"

"Oh, just place it over there then!" she angrily replied, gesturing for a spot not too far away. She really wanted to see it, the so-called Necropolis! What was that commoner going to do, without even a wand? Was he going to wave his hands in the air and suddenly…

Suddenly, large bony protrusions erupted from the ground, as the grass quaked and the air turned quite a few degrees colder. Louise's skin paled and her eyes widened in sheer shock as a massive circle of pure green energy brought forth skeletal appendages that seemed to twitch and move in the air as a green form began to materialize in the sky.

Her neck bent backwards as she watched a titanic construction start to form from sheer nothingness into the air. Slowly, brick after brick and wall after wall formed patterns and figures, as she could swear moans and bright pale teal wisps began to circle around it.

She was speechless as her familiar returned in front of her. "Now, if you can also tell me that you possess enough lumber, maybe we can get started on a Crypt and have our first army deployed."

"S…" she mumbled.

"Uh?"

"STOP IT!" Louise shrieked. "Annul it! Tear it down! Oh Founder Brimir, oh holy God, oh God! TEAR IT DOWN! STOP!"

She flailed her hands and then grabbed the man's robes. "Stop that thing right now! I don't want that!"

"But master, how are we going to advance on our mission if you don't build a Necropolis?" the Acolyte remarked.

It was getting along nicely too. One hundred seconds were all it took to get one built.

Then the land would decay and, once blessed by the Scourge's presence, everything would be fine.

He just hoped a Ghoul would eventually appear. He always disliked being short on prepared lumber.

Still, he swore to obey his master Ner'Zhul and his chosen Heroes, and so he did precisely that. The entire construction froze, before collapsing onto itself and disappearing.

"I bow to your will, master," he bowed then. "I wish only to serve."

"T-Then you can start by telling me what you mean with…with the Scourge, and Ner'Zhul…" she was trembling as she said that.

She began to weep and cry when the Acolyte told her everything she wanted to know.

Only she, only Louise the Zero…Only she could summon a creature that unmistakeably tied her to the demons and the blasphemers…but maybe, maybe she was still in time.

If she hid her familiar's powers…but then, why summon one at all?

She had demanded a Sacred and Beautiful Familiar.

She had received back a Damned and Sick one.

Her shoulders trembled as a dry mad chuckle escaped her lips. Beneath the clear blue sky, Louise laughed.

"What is your name, familiar?" she asked then.

"I have none, master. It was stripped the moment I became one of the Acolytes of Ner'zhul."

Louise looked thoughtful for a moment, before she gazed sideways and finally decided. "Then…I'll call you Louis."

"Louis?" the Acolyte remarked, "As you wish, Master."

Louise nodded grimly. Good. She could work with this. She just had to trudge on and suffer through the taunts of having summoned a commoner. She'd take them all with grace.

Anything…to keep the news she had summoned some sort of heretic from Mother.

She swallowed nervously. Maybe it was better to lie and claim she had summoned an owl. Nobody was going to fault her back at home. Sure, an owl was an average familiar but…but it would a _safe_ one.

"You have yet to answer me, master, on one question," Louis said then crisply.

"What is it, familiar?"

"What is your class?"

"I'm a second year," she replied. "Summoning you was the requirement to graduate to the second class."

"No," Louis shook his head. "Death Knight? Dreadlord? Cryptlord? Lich? Ah, are you maybe a Lich to be? Is this a quest to turn you into one? So you must be a Necromancer then?"

She shuddered.

"No," she shook her head.

"But you must be of a class, my master. It is the only reason Ner'zhul chose you. Ah, say no more. I understand," he nodded sagely, as if he had come to a great conclusion. "You are hiding your true self with magic. An Orb of illusion is a crafty thing, I admit," he took out his own. A small shimmer of light and his appearance completely changed.

Gone were his purple robes, replaced with bright white ones. Gone was his blue scarf or his sickly appearance. He looked like a robust brown haired commoner, the type that spread like fungus on farmsteads.

She stared dumbly at him for a moment.

"W-What is that!?"

"An Orb of Illusion," he remarked dryly.

"Illusion? But…no," she shook her head. It was a tainted and blasphemous artefact from a demon probably. She was not going to be tempted by it. Her faith in Founder Brimir would safeguard her soul. "Anyway, it's useless to use it with the school. They already saw your real appearance." And the professor had heard him talk of the Scourge!

She trembled. She'd have to be the one to talk and come up with some lie. Maybe…the Scourge could be an organization dedicated to killing rats? A very famous one from the world her familiar came from. Yes, she could use that.

She had to.

She began to walk back towards the castle, followed by her strange familiar that seemed to be curiously looking around.

"What are you looking for now?"

"The Mini-map," her familiar replied. "I can't find it."

"The Mini-map?" she parroted. What was that?

"Yes, it highlights the map we are currently in."

"Oh come on now!" Louise grumbled. "If you want a map, I'll show you one back in the library. There's one of the entire country, so you'll have your fun there!"

"Thank you, master."

At least he knew his place.

For being a heretical and blasphemous being that belonged to a cult dedicated to slaughtering the living and making them undead…

She just had to look at the small, nice things. Yes. She only had to do that.

**Author's notes**

**My muse. I hate my muse.**

**Louise + Acolyte following Warcraft 3 rules = Chaos.**

**And also, I wanted to try tactical warfare battle writing. (Which will come further down the road)**

***shrugs***

**I hate my muse.**


	2. The Pact Is Sealed

An Acolyte of Zero

Chapter Two

The lips of her familiar thinned in disgust. She actually quivered slightly under the glare of the man.

"I…I thought I would summon an animal," she meekly tried. "I didn't expect a human." She held her tongue from saying 'blasphemer'.

"I understand," he acquiesced. "We Acolyte can go many days without sleeping, master. What I am angry about is that these…_rooms_ do not give grace to your grandiosity."

Louise sputtered and turned slightly pink. "Ah! But I'm a student like everyone else here!"

"Still, there are not sufficient for one of your status, master," the Acolyte remarked. "Whereas a Necropolis on the other hand, it would have more than enough space to spare."

Louise frowned. "No! How many times must I say that? You will not build one!"

"Summon is the more appropriate term," the Acolyte said. "And I can unsummon them too, as long as you possess the required resources. Unsummoning also returns some of the resources back, but you did ask me to 'annul' the construction, so I simply cancelled it."

"Right," Louise blinked. "You said you needed three hundred Ecus, right? But it's not like you…" her eyes widened as she dashed towards her drawer, where she extracted the purse with all the spending money she had for the year.

Out of the thousand Ecus, three hundred and something had disappeared.

Of course, the Ecus weren't made 'purely' of gold, even she knew that…but to think it actually used inflation to make the money disappear…And from so far?

Louise swallowed. "So, if I told you I had money in my name somewhere in the world…"

"It does not matter. It is directly assigned to your upper right corner of the screen as long as it is yours," the Acolyte pointed out. "Like lumber…as long as you have it, then it does not matter where it is. Most of the time it's off-screen anyway."

Louise brought a hand to her temples. She didn't want to delve too deeply into this blasphemy, and his strange usage of terms —they had to be demonic, she supposed. What was a 'Off-screen' anyway? It probably was some strange type of demonic altar.

"So, the first building is the Necropolis, right?" Louise asked. "Then…the Crypt, and the members of the army…they sustain themselves on food produced by the Ziggurat?"

"Exactly," Louis nodded. "The Ziggurat can be upgraded to become a defensive tower, and if you have a cemetery the Crypt can also spawn Cryptfiends."

"Giant…spiders, right?"

"Better, for they are powered by the Unholy and Blessed energies of the Scourge," Louise did not want to know how something could be 'Unholy' and 'Blessed'. She was talking to a blasphemous heathen who dabbled with demonic artefacts and magic.

The fact he believed her the 'leader' of the cult here…

She just hoped nothing wrong happened.

"Why don't you go and ask a servant if they have a spare bedroom for you?" she said then to the man —no way was she going to change with him in the same room.

"I do not need to rest, my master, until the task has been completed."

"The task?"

"Clearly, we must amass troops in this scenario and conquer this academy. I recall the Lich King, when he was still a Death Knight, conquered Dalaran. This Academy holds five towers and a central one. By tearing them down we might complete the scenario and advance to the next one."

"No!" Louise shook her head. "No tearing down towers!"

"But master," Louis blinked. "How are we supposed to win the Campaign if we don't complete the scenarios?"

"Ah…we don't! No campaigning! No conquering and no destroying stuff!"

"But the enemy is certainly amassing troops as we speak, master!" Louis exclaimed back. "I understand the manual says we Acolytes are the light infantry of the Scourge, but we are just over glorified meat bags when it comes to fighting off even the easiest of enemy infantries…I pray to Ner'zhul the enemy isn't an orc with a raider fetish."

Louise ignored the man's outburst.

Too many Demonic terms to try to understand.

"There are no Orcs around here, and the few that are in the forest would not dare to attack the Academy."

The Acolyte's hands suddenly clapped together.

"That's it then, master! We must amass troops, pit them against the orcs, defeat them and then we will win the scenario."

Louise grumbled. "Look, Louis," she exhaled. "Go to sleep, all right? Tomorrow we'll talk about this more."

The Acolyte cocked his head to the side. "I don't…"

"Yes, I know!" she exclaimed. "But I do!"

"Oh master," the Acolyte shook his head. "If you so wish, I suppose I could prepare a concoction to turn you into…"

"No," she firmly gripped on his robes, before pulling him out of her room. "You want a mission? Go ask a servant for some place to sleep and then sleep until tomorrow morning! That's your mission!"

She then returned inside and slammed the door shut.

Louis blinked.

This was completely against protocol.

He looked around.

This was a corridor. He began to walk, his arms folded inside his long sleeves as he looked around. He grumbled quietly as he reached the lower floors, completely ignoring two young wizards frolicking in a corner —the disgusting passions of the living…

A young olive skinned maid was dusting off an alabaster bust, when he reached the entrance of the main Academy tower.

The maid actually stopped and turned to gaze at him for a moment, perplexed and surprised before a look of understanding dawned on her face.

"You must be Miss Vallière's familiar?"

"My life is sworn to Ner'Zhul," he remarked calmly. "The Hero Louise ordered me to look for accommodations among the servants' quarters, and her bidding will be done."

"Of course," the maid said making a slight curtsy. "My name is Siesta…how may I call thee?"

For an instant, he thought the maid was mocking him with her accent, then again, he did not care about being mocked.

"Louis."

"Ah," the maid giggled lightly. "I understand, Mister Louis," she began to walk outside, and as he followed her he realized they were heading towards a two floor wooden construction in a corner of the Academy.

"Tell me, Mister Louis, is it true?" the maid asked then with a light voice. "That in truth you're Madame Vallière's lover, whom she secretly brought inside the Academy?"

Louis frowned. "I do not know where you heard such spiel against a Hero of the Lich King," he retorted, "But whoever said that should better be prepared for when the Scourge will rise, he will pay tenfold the crime of accusing with baseless falsities my master."

The Acolyte then added. "There is no one who'd take a Lover in the Scourge. We are the Damned after all."

"Ah…a forbidden love? Damned to never be between a noble and a commoner?" Siesta said then with twinkling eyes.

Louis brought a hand to his forehead, massaging his eyebrows. "We shed mortal desires, in the Scourge."

"You take exterminating rats very seriously then," Siesta retorted. "I heard about the Scourge being a pest eradicator, is that true? Because we have some very mean rats inside the cellars, and if you could…"

"A Cryptfiend is an optimal solution against rats and pests of all types," Louis replied. "Their webbings are extremely useful in capturing them."

"Really?" Siesta turned thoughtful. "Is a Cryptfiend a sort of bug catcher?"

"Of sorts," Louis nodded. He supposed a Cryptlord would take offense at that, but a Cryptfiend did little else except throw webbings at flying nuisances to bring them down.

He was shown his bed —a shared dormitory with other servants— and then the maid excused herself with a bright smile.

The next morning, surprisingly early, his master had deep rings around her eyes as she thrust the reins of a horse into his hands, while holding a pair herself.

"Let's go," Louise grumbled.

"Where shall my blood be shed, master?" Louis replied, looking at the reins in his hands with interest. "And, master…I do not know how to ride a horse. Isn't there a Zeppelin we can use?"

"No," Louise actually replied coldly, as if embittered by something. "I don't even want to know what it is."

Louise trotted for a moment towards the gates, and then stopped to look back at her familiar. Louis was standing there, looking at the horse as if he had never seen one before. She growled slightly, turning around and then stopping next to him.

"Fine then," she hissed. "Climb up."

"But horses don't have slots to hold units, master."

"This one does!" she exclaimed, grabbing him roughly by the hand and pulling him up on her lap as if he was a bag of potatoes. Such a feat of strength would have looked better on a twenty-five year old knight than on a seventeen-year-old girl, but Louise simply didn't care.

True to her familiar's words…

She hadn't slept.

She hadn't closed her eyes a single instant.

She had felt tired. She had felt bitter. She had felt a lot of things…

_BUT SHE HADN'T SLEPT!_

She didn't care what the mission was about or what the scenario was. She wanted to sleep. The day was all about getting to know her familiar, so what better way than slaughtering frigging orcs with the familiar to get to know him!? Had she slept, she probably would have found it all stupid to do, but as it was…

It was a perfectly sensible idea to slaughter orcs.

People became friends over guts and corpses, right?

The outskirts of the forest were a few hours of trotting away from the Academy —far enough it wouldn't matter even if they made some noise or if the Acolyte conjured a Necropolis or whatever.

She had brought her money with her, all six hundred thirty-eight Ecus —that she had counted in an effort to sleep— and she hoped saying she did _possess_ the lumber of the Vallière peasants and farmers around her lands would work too.

Technically her mother did, and like her mother, she did too because the land belonged to the Vallière family.

"Master?" Louis remarked as she descended from her steed after him, "Why have you descended?"

She growled. "What? I can't?"

"I thought you were a Death Knight, master," he pointed out. "Death Knights never leave their steeds until a mission is concluded."

Grumbling, Louise returned on her horse.

"Your sword, master?"

Louise hissed back at Louis' question.

"I have a wand!"

"It should work in a pinch," Louis remarked, "But you should get your hand on a sword. No Death Knight is completed without a soul rending sword."

"I'll be a special Death Knight then," Louise bit out. "Now, before they realize we left the academy…let's get this over with," she exhaled.

Around her, she watched the luscious forest spring to life. She watched the sun slowly rising over the horizon with its golden crown as the rays illuminated her surroundings. A gentle breeze made the top of the tree move slightly, as a few rabbits emerged from a nearby bush to see what the confusion and the noise was all about.

The birds were chirping.

She pointed her wand towards an empty spot nearby and then, finally, proclaimed.

"Build a Necropolis there, Acolyte."

"I gladly obey," Louis replied with true satisfaction in his throat. Louise watched impassively as the green circle appeared, and she felt the weight of the money in her pouch drastically reduce itself. The bone protrusion twitched and moved back and forth in the air as the entire complex built itself from thin air, piece after piece and brick after brick.

It was as big as her family's mansion, if not even bigger since it was on multiple floors. It floated gently, for such a massive thing, with bone spikes and giant skulls lining all around its outer walls. Bright green wisps floated around the building, flying quickly in circles and moaning as they did.

The moment it was completed, the moment the Necropolis rose to its full magnificence in the skies, Louise's heart…

_It_ _stopped_.

A massive wave of pure unbridled necromantic energies erupted from the construction, slamming on the ground and twisting it. The green luscious grass left the place to the _Blight_, as putrescent green gases began to erupt from the ground. The rabbits died of shock on the spot, their bodies immediately rotting away and leaving the place to their skeletal remains.

The trees that had brown trunks and bright green leaves soon turned to blackened crisps of their former selves, as the Unholy energy of the Blight poured through them and pushed through the forest. Louise watched as the birds on the trees died or flew away, while the animals ran as fast as their legs could in fright.

She clasped tightly on the reins of her steed, which neighed and buckled, as if it was trying to discard something from his body...and when Louise looked down, her eyes _widened_.

There was rotten flesh on the ground.

She looked at the horse, and then…

Then she _screamed_.

Its raiment had turned a sickly dark purple and black, as only the bones remained of the horse that her mother had bought her. Deep pools of green fire erupted from within the horse's skull, as she felt the chilling sensation of being _in command_ of this monstrosity.

She felt a cold, dark hand grab at her very soul as she exhaled a cloud of vapour. Her skin was greyish now, sickeningly pale.

She gripped her wand with all the strength she could muster.

"Master?" Louis said slowly walking next to her. "I await your command."

"Louis," she muttered. "What now?"

"No ghoul appeared, master," Louis commented. "We need lumber to build a crypt and spawn a few. There are no mines around us, so probably killing creatures will yield us gold."

She didn't want to ask where that thought came from, but she nodded to him.

"Build a Crypt then, I have the lumber."

In the La Vallière terrains, lumber cut for the winter's months suddenly shrunk down of _fifty kilos_.

Louise watched as a smaller construction —smaller than the Necropolis by a good chunk— began to appear from the ground. She knew she should care about what she was doing. She knew she should be refusing this, but…

This was hers.

She, Louise the Zero…

The one who could do no magic…

She could do this.

She was doing this.

Sure, Louis was summoning the units but…but he was obeying her orders, and she was…

She was in command.

A low throaty chuckle escaped her lips, as she clenched tightly on the reins of her steed. So what if it looked blasphemous? It was her power.

She. Had. Power.

The Crypt was an ugly building. It looked like a mixture between a church and a noble's family tomb, with long rusty bars. The only thing that denoted its 'magical' appearance was the eerie green light behind the bars and the light sheen of fog.

"Master?" the Acolyte remarked, "You must order the Crypt to produce Ghouls."

"Ah?" she blinked, and then looked at the building.

"Produce Ghoul?" she said softly.

A loud pitched moan escaped then from the building, which made Louise squeak in fright and nearly jump off her horse. A bright green fog escaped from the bars of the Crypt, as she heard rasping and twisted snarls that could not belong to a living creature…or one Founder Brimir would approve of.

Her pouch slowly dwindled down once more…to zero.

The next instant, a creature of bones and pointy teeth emerged in a crouched position from the fog, slumbering forward with hisses and snarls upon long claws and bony limbs.

Louise did not scream.

She bit down on her lips until she drew blood, and clenched her reins as strongly as she could.

The Ghoul looked at her.

"Must feed!" it snarled then.

She looked towards Louis.

The Acolyte looked back at her. "We need more gold to produce more, master."

She nodded softly, and then looked towards the forest. "Kill enemies to obtain gold, use gold to build more ghouls…use more ghouls to kill more enemies," she nodded.

"Master?"

"Yes, Louis?"

"Have you chosen your first ability already? I would suggest Unholy Aura or Death Coil if you haven't yet."

She repressed a mad bark of laughter at that. Tears menaced to sprinkle down her eyes, as she carefully and calmly whispered.

"In for coppers…in for Ecus…"

Then she said, firmly, "Unholy Aura."

And around her, she watched strange runic symbols appear as a wave of necromantic energies erupted from her body, giving off a faint blue hue to both Louis and the Ghoul in question, whose own bones seemed to strengthen beneath said magic.

She could do magic.

She could do _Unholy_ _Demonic_ Magic, which meant _without doubt_ that Louis had been right, and that she was a member of the Scourge and a blasphemer. It meant that she would be trialled by the Inquisition if found, and then executed if sentenced guilty —something she _clearly_ was after this.

Her mother would be ashamed.

Then again, she was sure everything would turn out all right. Nobody was going to see this happen, and once the orcs were dead…dead men could not talk, right?

"Wazzup?" the Ghoul snarled as he beckoned him closer.

Well, not _all_ of the dead talked.

She pointed towards a nearby tree with her wand.

An explosion rocked the area, uprooting a few trees and leaving their smouldering carcasses immediately to dissolve on the blighted terrain. The Ghoul didn't understand that order, apparently.

"Louis?" Louise murmured. "What do you suggest?"

"Master, you could unsummon the Necropolis now, giving you back enough money to summon a second Ghoul…but in order to do that, you would need a Ziggurat for food…and unfortunately there would be not enough money for both." The Acolyte shook his head. "This single unit will have to do. If you had a sword, you could help in the attack."

"But I don't have one," she remarked.

"For the moment," Louis acquiesced.

Louise watched the forest, and then her ghoul. She then watched the scorched black area where her explosion had suddenly gone off.

She couldn't use her wand to give orders —explosions could happen— so that left only one thing. Slowly, she pushed her wand back in her pocket and then nodded to herself.

"Louis," she said, "when you have enough gold, you will build a Ziggurat and unsummon the Necropolis. It is too big and too eye catchy."

"Thy bidding will be done, master," Louis bowed deeply.

Louise bit her lips, and then began to move with the Ghoul at the heels of her horse —or hooves, to be technical.

"The pact is sealed," Louise whispered back.

And the forest…the forest grew as quiet as if death itself had crept inside.

**Author's notes**

**Louise's resolve lasted an entire night without sleep.**

…

**Good to know.**


	3. Let Terror Reign

An Acolyte of Zero

Chapter Three

The forest was quiet. Her horse trudged on the ground unscathed, as her eyes moved to every shadow there was. Next to her, she could hear the guttural noises the Ghoul emitted, and the way its tongue moved —how it had one was beyond her knowledge— against its teeth was more than enough to give her nightmares.

She knew there was a small bunch of orcs in the forest. Mostly, because all forests had some orcs —maybe not even a dozen, but still 'some'. She was doing a good action after all.

Even if she was using blasphemous and unholy powers that clearly betrayed all of Founder Brimir's ideology, she was still acting for a good cause.

The Blighted area finally ended, and Louise watched with fascination the sheer difference between where the corruptive magic of the Necropolis gave way to the still luscious nature of the forest. It was…really, who looking at it wouldn't claim it the work of demons?

She trudged on, outside of the blight, and suddenly she felt slightly…weaker.

It was barely an inkling of forlorn. It was as if being on the Blight had felt right, while being out of it was wrong. It wasn't horrible per se, but…it was like loving candy and eating one, and then finding out it was the last one. She looked around for a moment more, and then grumbled.

"Where are the orcs when you need one?"

There was a rustling sound near a bush close to her, and swiftly she pointed her index finger against it.

"Go, attack!"

The ghoul snarled as it launched itself forward, disappearing into the bush with an animalistic roar of sorts. There was a bit of a scuffle and then it emerged, carrying the carcass of a deer back and dropping it nearby.

Louise groaned. That wasn't an orc, and she doubted animals had gold to begin with. She kept a leisure pace on her horse, quietly pulling the reins back every now and then to avoid a branch from a nearby tree —she hadn't needed to do that in the blighted terrain, probably because the trees had all been torn from their very insides with that demonic magic.

Suddenly, her skeletal horse neighed. It was a sharp whistle-like sound, soon followed by its skull moving to the side and charging through small bits of undergrowth. Louise shrieked slightly in surprise as the ghoul followed her horse and then pounced forth just a curious orc emerged from behind a tree.

It was holding on to a crude wooden club, and seemed surprised just like her.

The ghoul wasn't.

Her unit charged ahead, its long teeth and claws baring themselves for attack as it pounced on the beast and bit down on it with strength. Her horse soon followed, baring its flank as if expecting her to attack the creature too with her own weapon —a sword she did not have.

"I don't have a sword you stupid beast!" Louise shrieked as she tried to push the horse away.

The creature seemed undaunted by the prospect of its owner being weapon-less, and so neighed forward.

"You weren't this fussy when you were alive!"

Another neigh.

"Fine!" Louise huffed. "Fine," she took out her wand. How difficult would an explosion be? Her Ghoul was taking care nicely of the stupid orc's attention —now that she looked at it, why was she bothering intervening at all?

The orc's wooden club didn't even scratch her ghoul's bones, reinforced as they were by her mere presence. The beast was also too stupid to attack her, even though her horse seemed to be trying its best in getting the creature's attention. The Ghoul's claws were already ready, just like its fangs, with the blood of the orc who was starting to tire and had begun to defend itself.

The Ghoul knew no tiredness.

The orc instead was a living and breathing creature, whose loss of blood was…

It was bringing it down.

With a final yelp of pain, the orc fell and the ghoul was upon it, biting down on the green-skinned beast's throat and giving it a quick 'snap' sound.

Silence descended in the forest as blood pooled down on the ground.

Louise breathed once, making sure her lungs expanded to their fill before exhaling. Her eyes moved to from the corpse of the orc to the ghoul. Well, wasn't he going to check for gold on it? Was she supposed to…

"Acolyte," she felt silly speaking to thin air. "Did we get gold from its death?"

"We did, master," Louise actually looked around with a panicked look. Where the hell in the name of Brimir was the voice coming from!?

Still, if she _did_ earn gold from slaying orcs, then this _was_ a mission, and if she _did_ complete it, then she could finally _sleep_.

"Enough for another ghoul?"

"No master, we require at least five more deaths for a Ziggurat...or four if you wish to keep the Necropolis."

"Can't you unsummon the Necropolis now and build a Ziggurat?"

The Acolyte's voice filled with something Louise knew was akin to annoyance.

"Of course, master. If that is your wish, then I will obey."

"Do so."

"Thy bidding will be done, master."

She kept on trudging in the forest after that, the Ghoul following her.

"Master?" the voice of the Acolyte reached her then. "We are under attack."

Louise's entire frame paled. Had the orcs reached her base so soon?

"Louis! Can you do something!?"

"Unless you possess more gold that is impossible."

It was then —as if a god had seen her plight— that three orcs stumbled in with their gnarled clubs along her path back to the Crypt and the Ziggurat.

She thrust her wand forward and simply screamed for a fireball. It didn't matter if she got an explosion, the important thing was that it would work. Two orcs vaporized from the resulting detonation, while one merely was scorched and dazed —but it was enough for the Ghoul to pounce on him and tear apart his stomach, biting messily upon it.

"My master! The Ziggurat can be upgraded to become a Nerubian Tower!"

"Then do so, Louis!" Louise angrily snarled back. Orcs, those filthy creatures…

By the time she finally stumbled into the clearing, it was to the horrendous sight of a few men dressed in rich garments dead upon the blighted ground. Their swords out and their looks grey, they seemed like the normal retinue for a noble. Louise's heart reached her throat as she realized they belonged to Count Mott.

"Master?" Louis emerged from a hidden corridor atop the stairway of the Ziggurat, where now an oval shaped crystal glowed brightly of a pale teal light. He descended the stairs slowly, holding a surprised look on his face as she clenched on her reins hardly.

"Louis," Louise whispered. "What have you done?" she murmured.

"I obeyed thy orders, Master," Louis remarked dryly. "They came upon the Ziggurat with swords held high in their hands! They would have destroyed it certainly!"

"They had swords! They weren't mages!" Louise hissed back. "They…you could…"

He could have done what? Convinced them to ignore the blasphemous constructions? Told them to 'look the other way, no inhuman blighted demons coming through the green fog'?

"What do I do now…"

"Your ghoul is slightly wounded, master," Louis remarked. "If you wish, we have enough to research Cannibalizing. The ghoul can then eat their corpses to regain his health...or just wait upon the Blighted ground."

Louise closed her eyes lost in thought.

"Did we accomplish the mission, Louis?"

"I do not know about that, Master," Louis remarked. "Have you killed all the orcs? Being without a mini-map makes it difficult to see if we have explored everything in the area. Is anything else close by?"

"There is Count Mott's villa," she murmured softly. "He is the royal messenger…"

"I suppose he might belong to the next mission then," the Acolyte replied. "Assaulting and sieging his outpost with an army, capturing and converting him to the Scourge…yes, it could pretty much be."

"But that would be treason to the Queen!" Louise hissed back.

Louis just looked at her.

Silence settled between the two.

The skeletal horse neighed.

The Ghoul licked its claws and gargled out a throaty snarl.

Louise began to tremble.

Louis remained unfazed.

"No…" she murmured. "No…"

"Master," Louis said softly. "I walked with a great man once," he said. "His name was Arthas Menethil…he was the son of the King of Lordaeron," he added. "He killed his own father, becoming the first Death Knight of the Lich King…he ascended the throne…and I was there, in the throne room, holding upon a staff as he said the following words…"

There was a dreadful silence as the Acolyte closed his own eyes, as if lost in thoughts…

And Louise found herself there, in the middle of the throne room filled with marbles and rich dresses in the nobles present, watching a man with pale grey hair and sickeningly similar to her skin stride forward wearing a black furred cloak that covered his plate mail. Around her, bells were ringing in festivity for the return of the King's only son.

The man unsheathed its blade —long, with jagged edges and a skull where the hilt met the blade— and then brought it down on the ground, with his father talking to him.

"Ah my son, I knew…"

Arthas began to talk to himself, in a voice that resounded clearly into Louise's ears, even though she was nowhere close to the man in question. The moment his black furred cowl came down as he stood…Louise looked at the face once beautiful and now sickly and grey.

"You no longer need to sacrifice yourself for your people. You no longer need to bare the weight of the crown. I have taken care of everything…"

He walked forward, towards his king, his father. Louise's hands went to her mouth as she watched him grab the King with his left and pull up the blade so that the tip stood close to the man's throat.

"What is this? What are you doing, my son?"

The King asked…why was he asking!? Then again…Arthas was his son, was he not?

"Succeeding you, father. _Close your eyes…now that mine have opened!_"

Louise screamed as the blade…_Frostmourne_, pierced through the neck of Arthas' father…she fell on her knees in that strange open-eyed dream, as she heard Arthas' words continue while the jagged crown of his father fell down on the steps near the throne, breaking and splitting apart bloodied.

"This Kingdom shall fall, and from its ashes shall arise a new order… _that will shake the very foundations of the world!_"

Then the vivid dream was gone, and she was back on her skeletal steed.

"I…my campaign…"

"Clearly, your objective is to conquer this nation, my master," Louis said crisply. "All must bow to the Scourge! The Cult of the Damned must rise!"

"Isn't there another way?" Louise softly murmured.

"Death shall cleanse the world, master."

Louise looked towards the Ghoul and then Louis. Finally, she pointed her wand towards the forest. "Do the two have pouches on their bodies?"

Louis bent down and looked, before nodding. "They do."

"Their gold is ours now, isn't it?"

"Yes master, enough for another Ghoul apparently…but then another Ziggurat will have to be built to increase their numbers."

"Right," Louise muttered. She supposed 'food' was rather some sort of Necromantic Energy that Unholy Demons needed to summon them forth.

She closed her eyes. "Do it."

The Crypt began to expel the green miasma once more, and when the second Ghoul emerged —practically similar to the first— Louise simply turned and entered the forest once more.

There was no doubt in Louise's mind then: this could only be an act of magic. This entire thing, this 'mission', this 'scenario'…it could only be magic.

As she crept beyond the spot she had torn apart the three orcs, her eyes saw a glint of something deeper in the forest. The two ghouls followed her wordless gesture and pounced forth through the undergrowth. She followed on her steed next.

Five orcs stood, with one wielding a rusty axe, in front of a scared witless Count Mott.

"Me found him!" one of the orcs bellowed.

"Me stole his boom stick!" another said. Louise's eyes shone with understanding. That was why the Count looked positively scared —without a wand, what was a mage?

"Master," Louis remarked. "You realize you have gained a level?"

Louise blinked. "What?" she muttered.

"As your experience grows, so does your magic. At the first mission, it is generally capped at two…to a maximum of ten," she had no idea what he was saying. "You should put a point in Death Coil, master."

"Fine," Louise grumbled. "Death Coil."

In that instant, a bolt of pure green energy departed from her fingertips and slammed straight into the chest of the orcs' chief.

The green-skinned monstrosity, that was as tall as two men were and had enough muscles to uproot a tree and use it as a club if he so wished…

_Died on the spot._

The other orcs looked around for a moment.

Louise stared at her fingertips.

"Anyone! Save me and you will be rewarded handsomely!" Count Mott exclaimed.

A thought suddenly crossed Louise's mind. Count Mott could be the test. If she saved him with her troops, and he rewarded her, then she was just overly exaggerating their 'blasphemous' nature. If he instead didn't…

Then they really were demons.

And she…she would be executed for it, wouldn't she? Count Mott would probably make her death quick. She was not going to betray Henrietta! She would not kill her friend like that! She'd rather die at the hands of another noble, rather than continue on this path of perdition.

Maybe Brimir would forgive her then, if she did that.

"Let battle be joined," she whispered as she brought her right hand up, "_**LET TERROR REIGN**_!" and with those words, her ghouls shot forth with their claws glinting with their bony white appearance into the light of the sun. With sickening roars and bellows, the orcs ploughed back, raising their clubs.

Two charged ahead, one slamming his shoulder against a Ghoul and the other then crashing down with its club on the creature's back. There was a loud snap as the wooden club broke in half. It was in that moment that she strode forth, her hand outstretched.

"Death Coil!" another orc fell down on the ground as the sickening green bolt burst forth.

"Death Coil!" she screamed once more…only for nothing to happen.

"Master," Louis remarked. "Spells have cooldowns…and they also deplete your mana."

She calmly schooled her features as she waved her wand against an orc. Her purpose was a gust of wind…but all she got was an explosion that tore apart the creature's head and sprayed blood and gore all over her body.

The orcs remaining viciously grappled the second Ghoul, pulling with enough strength to shatter him to shambles and pieces of bones.

"A Death Coil can be used to heal the wounded too, master."

She bit her lip. What part of 'wounded' was still there in a bunch of broken in half bones? Well, the upper half was still moving somewhat —truly unholy magic was at work here, no matter in what way she looked at it.

"Death Coil!" she muttered somewhat uneasily, as the skeleton of the Ghoul soon reformed back into its entire being. She shook her head. Why was she still surprised? She was atop a skeletal horse guiding unholy demons to battle…

Really, she should be accustomed to this.

The orcs weren't surprised. They were too stupid to be surprised or to look behind their backs. So when one of the two remaining beasts was taken into a pincer attack by both ghouls —one jumping on the orc's chest and the other on its back— it was made short work of.

The last one however managed to actually swing his club at Louise, making her widen her eyes just seconds before she was thrown off her horse and sent tumbling on the ground with her breathing ragged.

Was that blood in her vision?

The two Ghouls snarled and viciously tore through the sides of the remaining orc, who screamed in rage trying to push the two skeletons off him, but to no avail.

Count Mott trembled as he stood, walking towards his wand.

Louise watched the figure of the Count reach for his wand from one of the dead orcs; he grabbed it, and then eyed with fright her and her creatures.

Wasn't Count Mott a water mage?

"H-Help me," Louise croaked, extending a hand towards Count Mott. "I…saved you."

Count Mott shrieked in fear, and then brought his wand forward. "Y-You! You scum, heathen! Necro…Necromancer! May your soul rot in hell!"

The moment the man began to mutter an incantation that did _not_ mean to heal her wounds… Louise closed her eyes. So this was her destiny then.

She was an unholy demon, just like the others.

She was going to die in any circumstance, so there really was no need to wait around for the Inquisition's own executioner.

The Ghouls snarled.

Count Mott screamed.

When she next opened her eyes, it was to the crouched figure of Louis looming over her.

"The weakness of flesh and the living," he said gravely. "A wound, a broken bone…difficult to heal…long time to bring it back. If you wish, master…that can be remedied."

"Will…will it make the pain…leave?" she asked quietly.

"It will," Louis nodded sagely.

"Will…will I be like them?"

"No," Louis shook his head. He gripped the sword that the chief orc had wielded and scoffed at its crude design. "You will be a Death Knight. As was Arthas Menethil, the First…you shall be a bringer of the will of Ner'zhul into this world. You shall guide the Undead to battle, and we shall follow you…for we are the Scourge…"

He dropped the sword, crude as it was, between the hands of Louise whose sight was coming less.

"Master, what is your command?" Louis asked then. "Do thou wish…for resurrection as a Death Knight?"

"Do it," Louise croaked.

The last thing she saw…

Was Louis bringing down his wavy dagger —a kukri, was it— to pierce her heart in a single fluid gesture.

Was this…

The end of the first mission?

**Author's notes**

**Mission completed!**

**Proceed?**

**Proceed!**

**Count Mott was going for Siesta. **

**He got eaten by Ghouls.**


	4. Where shall my blood be spilled?

An Acolyte of Zero

Chapter Four

Louis was used to special missions. He recalled Arthas, having to carry the urn of Kel'Thuzad to the Sunwell to bring the Necromancer back as a Lich. This was practically the same thing.

He was in charge until an Altar of Darkness was constructed and Louise's spirit gripped and firmly tucked inside a Death Knight's body. To do that, he needed money and lumber.

The two Ghouls could provide it, but without a Necropolis, they'd have nowhere to drop it.

He reviewed his inner knowledge. He had an inkling of what he could produce and what he could not, and as things were, he felt stumped.

He'd have to go for a Necropolis, but the number of individuals to kill…

Carefully, he trudged towards the body of the enemy who had dared assault his master with a wand and looked over his possessions. A pouch, hefty with sparkling gems and random gold coins, fell out of the man's belt. He grabbed onto it greedily, before giving a nod to the Ghouls to begin their meagre 'meal'.

As the two Sublime and Sanctified creatures of the Scourge began to feast, he slowly valued and counted the golden bits and pieces. They weren't pure, and the gems were mostly baubles, but it was enough.

The meadow looked good enough, and with the Crypt and the Ziggurat…

He'd have to unsummon those, he supposed. He wondered why the building yet remained. If the first mission had ended, shouldn't they automatically disappear? Was this all a complicated first mission?

Louis brought both hands upwards as trickling green energies left his fingertips, and as the familiar green circle of magic summoned forth from the beyond another Necropolis, he left for the old starting area to begin unsummoning.

He didn't want to waste the Crypt and the Ziggurat, but more than the food produced, he needed the gold the two would give him.

The Necropolis was required for the wood —without his master's consent, he had to begin gathering it anew.

His steps slowed down considerably as he carried in his arms the corpse of his master. Her skin was pale white, and her hair felt silky as he held her with one hand to keep her head high and the other circling her legs. The blood had stopped dribbling out from the hole in her chest, right where her heart was supposed to be.

He smiled.

His master had shown great promise.

Sure, there were some bits to redefine and some edges to smooth, but the Cult of the Damned would enjoy a strong leadership in this campaign all the same.

He watched as the Blight of the newly built Necropolis poured through the ground and the still healthy trees. Mentally, he acknowledged the two Ghouls to begin clawing at trees for lumber.

When he reached the Ziggurat and the Crypt, he stilled.

A red haired girl with tanned skin and a blue haired girl where both there, looking around in shock and surprise at the constructions. One girl had a fiery red salamander, while the other had a dragon —a blue one, a Frost Dragon!

He remained hidden as he watched them _explore_ the buildings, rather than tear them down.

The blue haired girl then pointed to something in the distance with her staff, and Louis' blood ran cold. The Necropolis was eye-catching, and it was tall. The two girls brought themselves back to the dragon, which then grabbed the Salamander and lifted off, headed towards it.

The Ghouls didn't need to do more than gather enough wood to reach the quota for the Altar of Darkness, and as he quickly left Louise's body against the tree, he unsummoned the Crypt.

If they destroyed the Necropolis, he'd have no food to bring back the Hero Louise.

The wood requirements were satisfied by the time he received the telltale sign of being under attack.

Strangely enough, the two girls weren't attacking the Necropolis from afar, but rather…they went _inside_ to explore it. He supposed there was something strange going on about it: when had enemies ever entered a building?

There was something pretty strange going on, and it wasn't the fact the Darkness never answered his calls

He carefully moved to the outskirts of the Blighted area, and then brought up his hands as he summoned forth the Altar of Darkness.

He laid down the body of Louise the Hero near the tendrils of bones and necromantic green energies, and then stood in wait.

The two 'assaulters' were still lost inside the Necropolis —he could sense them even though they hadn't even attacked the Ghouls. They weren't going to find much inside: the Necropolis were always summoned bare.

When the Altar of Darkness was completed, he lifted Louise's body once more and then dropped it on the cold slab of stone. The air was positively chilling as he began to anoint the girl's body with the concoction required to become a true master of the Scourge. It didn't matter to him if he was touching her naked body —he didn't care about that— or if this ritual was generally something done off-screen, this was his duty as an Acolyte of the Scourge.

He carefully pried from the Altar of Darkness a Torch, and then set fire to Louise's entire body.

"Flesh of the living, shall be consumed," he muttered. "Only the soul matters, and to Ner'Zhul it shall be pledged."

He began to chant as the fires near the Altar glowed brighter and brighter as the energies twirling around the spot became stronger. The seconds of chanting went by, and soon he trudged away from the altar with his head low in a profound bowing gesture as a portal of thick murky darkness appeared.

In that moment, he felt the Necropolis be destroyed by fire, just as the Ghouls were torn apart from the sky by the two wizard girls —since when did flying units with cargo spots enable those inside to fire…he didn't know. Maybe it was a patch of sorts?

Finally, the portal closed as Louise emerged from it with gaunt grey skin and sunken cheeks. Her right hand firmly clasped against a Runeblade that held the same form as the dirty and scrapped sword he had taken from the Orc —but the powers of Ner'Zhul were unmistakeable in it.

She scoffed, looking around with cold dead eyes as she took in what remained of her base.

"Louis," she said quietly. "Unsummon everything."

"I live to obey, master," he bowed profusely as he moved quickly near each building.

Louise watched with apathy as green conical emanations spread from the top of the summoned constructions, disappearing into the Great Beyond she had fallen into at her death.

Her death.

She had died and she hadn't gone to heaven, or hell. She had gone in the Darkness.

Nothing was there, nothing but the Void that held everything and anything…and nothing.

She couldn't explain it, she couldn't understand it…but she had grown afraid of it.

Then a voice had called to her…and she had answered. It had been the voice of her familiar, calling for her to return and she had followed it.

Her familiar had a nice voice, and he obeyed immediately her orders…what more could she ask for?

"Louis, do you still have the orb of Illusion?"

She trotted closer to the Acolyte, as he nodded and handed it over. She felt its weight in her left hand, and then slowly nodded as a spark of magic travelled through it, activating the power stored within.

She placed it inside the pouch _in her armour_.

She blinked.

Louise looked at her hands —gauntleted— and her body —armoured— and…and she even had shin protectors! Soon her entire appearance morphed. Her eyes stopped being dark, no longer daunting and cold but warm and even _loving_ as she watched in the reflection of her Runeblade that began to morph into a wand afterwards.

Her armour left the place to her student's clothes, albeit her skirt changed to a long pair of trousers. There was a moment of surprise as her horse too resumed his living appearance. She bit her tongue. What happened if she separated from it?

"The Illusion will remain," Louis spoke as if he had read her mind. "It is tied to the Death Knight Louise…who is composed of Horse and Blessed Human."

She didn't feel really blessed, but his words comforted her. The garbage of one man was the treasure of another, and if he claimed her a Blessed Human…well, it was better than accepting being a Sinful Heathen and Heretic who would see a pyre soon enough.

As the last of the buildings disappeared, Louise tugged on the reins of her horse and gave her hand to Louis.

"Climb up."

"That goes against pr—"

It was actually easy to lift him up on her horse now. She didn't believe 'death' had changed much but…she clearly felt stronger, better…she felt good. Even as her tongue licked her teeth and lips and she realized her heartbeats had slowed down, she still pushed her horse to a nice trotting motion.

"We'll return to the Academy for now," Louise said calmly. "We've been away too long."

"Master," Louis said from his position as 'imitation of a potato bag', "Two mages destroyed our Necropolis and our Ghouls."

"I felt that," Louise murmured. "I…I feel a lot of things now," she added softly. "But we aren't killing them. It's just Kirche and Tabitha. Too stupidly curious and not much of a threat for…for my power," she said that last bit with a modicum of heat, clenching her reins tighter. She had power.

She had to remember that because now, no matter what, she no longer was the Zero.

She was Louise…

The Death Knight.

The academy came into view a few hours later, just as the bells signalled the lunch hour. She dismounted from her horse in the stables, watching with surprise as the other horses gave a wide berth to her own steed and herself.

She walked inside, doing her best to ignore the little 'clinks' of her armour —just where had it come from!?

"The Great Beyond, Master," Louis remarked. "Possesses the ability to transfer things from one place to another if summoned, for the right amount of money and materials…even possessions."

Therefore, the Great Beyond was a giant closet the Scourge used as a warehouse for stuff and units. There was little doubt about it: she had felt things in there lurk around, snarling or talking.

The Great Beyond…it stored armies to use for conquest.

She stepped into the hall to eat, and carefully sat down at her usual spot.

Louis remained behind her, his arms hidden in his sleeves.

She tapped her fingers on the table as a maid served her a meal.

"One for my familiar too," she grumbled. He had brought her back to 'life' whether it was a positive thing or not, it still was better than being dead and in pain.

The maid hesitated for just a second, before nodding and walking off to obey.

"Master?"

"Sit," she rolled her eyes as she gestured to the spot next to her.

Death changed the outlook on many things. Louise bit her lips as she watched the maid serve Louis too, and then she began to dig in on her own food…

Which tasted like ashes to her tongue.

"Master," Louis murmured. "We need little sustenance…"

Louise grumbled, "I'm hungry."

"A Ziggurat might provide the energies needed. It is more practical…"

There were few students, and no one was close to them to begin with. There were many empty seats all around, but it was as Louise was halfway through the 'ash-tasting' that Malicorne decided to make his presence known.

"Hey, that's my seat!" the chubby boy exclaimed pointing to Louis' spot.

"Get another," Louise grumbled back. "There are plenty, Malicorne the Farting Breeze."

The slightly round boy's eyes widened as he stuttered.

"You're one to talk Louise the Zero! Can't even discipline your familiar now, that he eats with us nobles?"

"Malicorne," Louise's eyes coldly settled on him and in that instant, the boy saw his entire life flash in front of his life as he stared into those cold and darkening eyes of the girl. "You are not an amusing jester. Take your lard rolls away from my vision, if you wish to keep your guts as your innards…and not as sausages to give to the pigs."

She stopped for a moment to think, and then added. "That would be cannibalism though."

Malicorne sweated as he stumbled back and then dashed away. The hall was silent, as the few who had heard the verbal exchange looked shocked that the La Vallière girl could muster such an acidic tongue.

"Master," Louis said. "Was that wise?"

"He has no right to try and bully you or me any longer," Louise grumbled. "I can do magic. You can do magic. If he wants a duel, I'll gladly give him one and tear him apart."

"If that is your wish, master."

Louise finished eating in silence, before standing up slowly and exiting the dining hall to reach for the library. Halfway towards there, she clicked her tongue against the top of her mouth, making a 'tsk' sound as she watched that insufferable fop of a Gramont walk towards her rose in hand with Malicorne and another bespectacled student acting as shoulders.

"They told me the Zero had grown fangs!" Guiche exclaimed. "I see nothing here that makes it true!" that despicable rose that acted as a wand to him fluttered in front of her face, inches away from her nose.

"What do you want, Guiche?" Louise growled, her patience thinning drastically.

"You should beg on your knees and apologize to Malicorne," Guiche said with a huff, "Unless you want to make enemies with the House of Gramont?"

Louise blinked. In the past, she probably would have begged. In the past, with the fear for her mother's punishments, she probably would have gone down on her knees and pleaded forgiveness.

Her mother would kill her if she knew she was a leader of a heretical army dedicated to wiping out life. Therefore…it didn't matter to her if the Gramont House declared war.

Her time at the academy was dwindling down to begin with.

How long until Tabitha or Kirche found out it was her familiar who could summon those monstrosities? How long until they found Count Mott's corpse or his guards?

She hadn't returned at the academy _only_ to have lunch.

She had returned to get her stuff and plan a way out of this mess.

"When you'll succeed your father, we'll talk about that," Louise replied. "Then again, when you'll grow the balls to declare the Vallière family your enemies, I'll probably laugh as the Queen declares you a traitor and has you hanged for High Treason."

She took a step forward, pointing her finger against the boy's chest.

"_You should bow to me and lick my feet_, Guiche. Be thankful I don't force you to do that, foppish bastard as you are you'd probably smear my shoes with lipstick…Go back to your room and enjoy in Malicorne's farts for what I care of your opinion," she pushed him —hard— out of the way as she trudged on. "Louis! With me!"

"Thy bidding is my command, master," Louis replied earnestly, following.

Guiche remained dumbfounded and dazed on the ground, watching the retreating form of Louise disappear behind a corner.

"See Guiche? I told you! She snapped and turned mad!" Malicorne whispered fearfully.

"Has to be that familiar of hers," Guiche commented then. "Since she summoned a commoner, she probably went mad."

"Well, but what can we do about it?"

"Nothing at the moment," Guiche shook his head. "But…maybe I'll have a talk with Montmorency! She'll come up with something in no time, you'll see!"

Meanwhile, Louise had all but barrelled inside the library like a fury possessed.

"I remembered something as I was dead," she muttered. "I tried praying to Brimir, and that got me thinking," she stomped through the meek sign about 'Fenrir section, forbidden to students' and went straight towards the forbidden tomes. "Brimir was a Void mage, capable of great magic," she mused out. "I can do great magic too, can't I?"

"Certainly, master," Louis followed silently, his head low. "You are the most powerful embodiment of the Lich King's will."

"Very well then," Louise acquiesced, "Then what does that make you?"

"Master?"

"You have runes on your hand, right?"

Louis blinked and then brought up his limb. "Do you wish me to remove it?"

"No," Louise retorted. "But what do they say?"

"I do not know."

"Have you seen runes on other familiars?"

"I can't answer that, Master."

"Doesn't matter anyway," Louise quipped. "A human familiar —blasphemous to Brimir or not— is something that never happened before," she flung a book on the ground as she muttered 'useless', before moving to another. "Big sister Eleanor used to drill me in the correct care of books…she'd have a heart attack now."

Another book flew in the air and crashed against the first. Soon a small pile formed that Louis simply watched with interest.

In the end, there was a surprised 'aha!' from Louise, who with a triumphant grin spread open a book and gestured for him to bring forward his hand. A moment later, a cry of 'I knew it!' echoed through the library.

"Silence!" the startled hiss of the librarian was soon choked by a, "Student? In the forbidden section!? Miss Vallière! Come out this instant!"

Louise just smiled.

"I'm not a Zero," she whispered, grabbing Louis' robes and pulling him back and forth in excitement. "I'm not a Zero…"

She chuckled darkly.

"I'm not blasphemous even…I knew it! I knew I wasn't wrong!" she walked out of the forbidden section and ignored the librarian's words.

Louis quietly followed in silent contemplation.

"I'm not wrong, I'm not a heretic…I'm not evil…"

She smiled. "I'm…" she opened the doors of the library as she left with Louis, "I'm a Void Mage. Like the Founder himself, I am…I am his heir, I suppose? That makes us…that makes us _right_! We can't be heretical demons, because the Founder himself would be one!"

Louis walked briskly, trying to keep up with the excited Death Knight —really, since when were Death Knights excited? Had there really been a patch upgrade of the Scourge?

"Louis," Louise said then, stopping dead on her tracks. He stopped barely an inch away from barrelling into her. "How fast can an army be built?"

"Depends on the scenario, master," Louis remarked. "If we consider this Academy the…loading scenario screen, then our next mission would be to…conquer Count Mott's villa for resources."

"They'd certainly send a messenger to investigate the Count's disappearance," Louise muttered. "We'd have to act during the night and as fast as we can."

"Indeed," Louis acquiesced. "And judging by our current resources, I suppose a Necropolis near a gold mine is out of question?"

"There are no mines in Tristain, but the country's military is weak….the kings and queens of the past made political marriages to keep the peace."

Louis' eyes shone. "Clearly, master, this is the beginning Campaign. Generally, there are four campaigns plus a Tutorial to be done before ending the game."

Louise face palmed. She really lost cognition of what her familiar was talking about most of the time.

"So what? If the Tutorial is Tristain…" Louise paled. "Albion…Gallia…Germania…" she swallowed nervously, "Romalia?"

"Are those the campaigns' names, master?"

"Yes," she felt incredibly weak in her knees. Was that what she had to do?

"Then master, should we start?" Louis said. Louise bit on her lips. It was starting to dusk, and the headmaster hadn't called her yet. Still…

In that moment, Kirche's salamander shot forth from behind a corner with its jaws bared and spouting out fire.

Louise watched with horror as the flames aimed at her familiar, eliciting from him screams as he literally began to burn alive.

"Death Coil! Death coil on me master! Death Coil!" he shrieked as he flailed around trying to remove the flaming robes.

She didn't waste time.

The moment the sickly green blast of energy touched him, she felt herself break through the illusion and appear in her armoured grandeur…sword in hand and cold, grey skin to bare for what inches the steel plate showed, she growled at the Salamander of Kirche who widened its own eyes in fear.

As the Unholy Aura activated once more, she felt _strong_.

She didn't know how to fight.

She had never grabbed a blade before.

Yet…it didn't matter, because the whispers of the Scourge guided her sword to slice at the monster's neck with a bellowing scream of fury.

"Flame! No!" Kirche emerged from behind the corner in shock, then froze her tanned skin pale, and covered in sweat. "Louise! What have you done!?"

She growled back in reply.

"He attacked my familiar, and by extent, me," Louise muttered darkly. "Is this a declaration of war, Zerbst?"

"No…I just wanted to talk with him!" the red haired girl was down on her knees, her hands gripping on the bleeding out corpse of Flame. "Tabitha! Someone, anyone, help!"

"You could have asked," Louise coldly said as she passed by the duo.

Louis followed in silence.

The girl's room soon emptied of whatever she needed, and then as the backpack was slung around her shoulders, she left as fast as she had arrived.

The steel of her armour clanked now noisily just as her boots stomped hard on the ground, while the fur of her cloak swished on the ground slightly. She needed to get on her horse. The neighing sound and the cries of shock echoed throughout the academy' courtyard as she watched her skeletal steed slam its hooves on the ground and make way through a few scared stiff commoners.

Louis, this time, didn't even bother to point out how the horse did not have a carry unit slot.

He merely climbed up.

"Master…" Louis muttered as she roared and charged towards the exit. "Are you sure this is the right way to go?"

"In for a copper," Louise snarled, "In for an Ecu."

A Death Coil tore the gates apart, as she pushed past them. The hooves of the skeletal and ghostly steed noisily clapped against the ground, leaving behind them a trail of dust.

"I remember a mission where Arthas had to act alone with a small escort," Louis stated matter-of-factly as Louise carried him away from the academy. "It was the first one, if I recall."

"How are you nonplussed at having survived being burned?" Louise remarked dryly, as she removed herself from the road and took to the forest.

"Master, death in battle means glorious resurrection by the Lich King as a creature of Undeath…what honour is there greater than that?"

"Eating something tasty," Louise grumbled. "Or sleeping."

"Sleep is for weak…and the living."

Louise exhaled.

She stopped her horse and looked further down the thicket.

"Count Mott's mansion is a few minutes in that direction…here is as good a place as any others, Louis."

"I gladly obey."

To those words…

Louise felt no need to add anything.

She was a Void mage.

She was the bearer of the same powers as the Founder.

So…in the end…

Everyone else was a heretic.

Ner'zhul was probably Founder Brimir's god.

Yes.

She just had to believe that.

Anything worked to remove the image of Kirche crying over Flame's death or of her own actions against the other students…

Anything…to pacify her mind of the doubts that assaulted her countless times…

Was she evil, if she purged heretics from the world?

Was she evil, if she summoned undead that were Blessed and Faithful?

Of course not…wasn't that the answer?

She was…She was a force of Good.

A force of Faith…a force of…justice.

And everyone else would come to learn to fear her righteous retribution, for she was Louise de la Vallière, Heir of Founder Brimir's powers!

**Author's notes**

**Made mistake. Unholy Aura does not give extra armour but increased speed and regen.**

**I blame patches and the words spewed by Arthas differ from English to Italian version (The Italics is the Italian part translated to English)**

**Louise is 17 in the novels, but she's always portrayed as extremely Tsundere and childish.**

**I'd be anything but childish at 17 if I had to live with constant insults for being weak and powerless…and then, once power comes…**

**Revenge, for the LICH KING!**


	5. Death Shall Reign

An Acolyte of Zero

Chapter Five

The Necropolis hummed to life, and the Blight extended upon the land in all of its powerful glory.

Louise held on the reins of her skeletal steed tightly, as her gaze wandered from the flickering lights of the mansion to its gate, and then back to the Necropolis.

"Master," Louis began. "I would suggest calling forth Acolytes from the Necropolis. We have enough for a couple."

She blinked.

"You mean…there are more like you?"

"Of course, master," Louis replied. "The Cult of the Damned has far more than a meagre and lonely Acolyte as it sole force."

Louise acquiesced. "Begin production then."

A soul-rending moan and a chorus of screams washed in the meadow badly lit by merely the moon's rays. Louise's stone face faltered for a brief instant, before she scowled and reset her features to natural boredom.

"For the glory of Ner'zhul!" an Acolyte muttered as a greeting, before quietly placing himself next to Louis.

"I live to serve," another appeared a moment later. Louise grumbled.

"You two, follow me. Louis? Remain here and wait for further orders."

Louis bowed in understanding.

Louise used the orb of illusion, and then set off to a calm trot towards the mansion. The two Acolytes followed her silently, their robes gently swayed by the wind. The night air was quiet, not even a cricket or a bird's noise echoed in the forest. Her armoured fist knocked strongly against the wooden gate.

"Open up, in the name of the Queen!" she barked out. "I have an urgent dispatch for the Count! My noble retinue and I will not tolerate being left outside to wait in the…"

The gates swung open, as two lightly armoured guards wearing nothing more than leather cuirasses and holding lances showed themselves in front of her.

Her horse neighed softly. The guards looked at her, and then at her 'retinue'.

"We're sorry m'lady," one of the two guards said bowing. "But th'lord not home," the blasted commoner added. "He's not yet returned from the Academy."

"I see," Louise huffed. "Well, we will not camp outside in the cold," she gave a light kick to her horse, trotting forward. The guards didn't stop her —they knew better— and so she entered together with the two Acolytes.

The moment the guards turned to stare at her, as silent as well trained assassins, the two Acolytes unsheathed their long trademark wavy daggers, and sliced the throats of the two commoners.

Blood sprayed on the ground soon followed by the corpses, as the two robed men murmured to one another. "The living shall drown in blood."

Louise watched them impassively search through the guards' belongings for coins and whatnot of value, but she simply trotted forward towards the main entrance. She descended from her horse, holding tightly upon the reins and wielding with her right hand her sword.

She knocked at the entrance of the mansion proper, rather than its gardens, and waited.

An elderly looking butler opened the door.

"May I be of assist—urk!"

Her blade pierced through the old man's chest as if it were nothing more than butter, and as his body slumped heavily against hers, she held him tightly, her left hand still holding the reins also grasping at his shoulder.

"May you find peace in the embrace of the Founder's Scourge," she whispered as she pulled the blade free from the man's guts. She heard the 'slush' sound of the blade freeing itself, now drenched in blood, and then looked around in the entrance.

A maid looked back at her in shock from a corner of the hall, where she had probably been curiously waiting to see the newcomer.

The maid screamed just as Louise pointed her own sword against her and yelled out loud.

"Death Coil!"

The green bolt of energy killed the maid on the spot, throwing her corpse on the ground with her face frozen stiff in the expression of pure terror she had held a moment earlier.

"Quick you two! Louis, summon more Acolytes if you can!" Louise bellowed as she entered, the two Acolytes following her with their daggers in hand.

"Thy will be done," he replied from afar, wherever he was.

"What's going on…" a maid said opening a door, only to come face to face with one of Louise's Acolytes.

"Die, in the name of the Scourge!" the Acolyte's dagger stabbed down viciously on the maid's chest, where her heart was. "Die!"

Blood sprayed from the wound as she fell, but that didn't stop the Acolyte from stabbing her repeatedly.

"I'll call him Stabby," Louise muttered looking at that particular Acolyte. The other one instead was slamming his shoulder against a closed door, from which came startled cries and screams of fear.

She rolled her eyes and held her sword with both hands, before pushing aside the Acolyte and tearing down the centre of the door with two well-placed sword swings.

"Blood for Ner'zhul!" the second Acolyte screamed as he pushed his head through the door. Louise heard a sound 'smack' soon followed by a 'thump'.

The Acolyte's head sported a nasty bruise as he fell backwards, a young butler holding with both hands a mop looked through the hole in the door with fear, only for Louise's sword to slice through and stab him in the neck.

The man's wrangled death breaths escaped his lips as blood sprayed from his throat. Louise twisted the point of the sword and then pulled it free from the wound. She wasn't much for wasting time.

The maid in the room screamed as a Death Coil reached her, and then she finally grew silent.

"Normally such a big mansion should have more than two guards…" Louise mumbled as she stepped outside, into the inner gardens.

Three Acolytes now followed her.

"Master? If you wish, I can wait and build a cemetery closer to your location. Fighting upon Blighted area shall restore the health of your units faster."

Louise grumbled in annoyance. Where were all the guards?

It was then that she heard the sound of bowstrings snapping as arrows sailed in the air. Three arrows penetrated through the robes of Stabby, and as the Acolyte looked surprised at his wounds, he fell down on the ground with a dull thud.

A few arrows ricocheted off her plate mail —the tempered steel or whatever it was proving too tough for the crude missiles.

"Ehi!" she exclaimed. "I had paid for him!" she grumbled in annoyance as she charged ahead, through the light vegetation and the rose bushes to where four scrawny looking guards and three shaken archers stood in what looked like a nice defensive formation that…

That meant nothing, because she ploughed ahead in their midst swinging her sword madly and screaming like a banshee, the two Acolytes following her and concentrating —one at the time— on the lancers among the guards.

The problem with lances was that, if they didn't work in stabbing the enemy in a soft spot, then they had to be dropped.

Louise capitalized on that time, flinging a Death Coil at the lancer directly in front of her, before pushing through the hole in the formation and slicing the arm off the guard to her right. She swung then the blade perpendicular to her body and sidestepped, letting it plunge deeply in the chest of the third guard.

The fourth turned his gaze with fear towards her, but by then, both Acolytes had proceeded to stab him on the shoulders and the back…

Acolytes were really stabbing-fetish bastards.

Still, they were 'hers'.

This was her power.

It felt good, so why was she complaining?

The archer's bows were useless within such a short distance, meaning that the moment they turned to run away, Louise sliced the back of one and flung a Death Coil at another.

The last Archer screamed as he fell on the ground.

"Please! Have mercy! Mercy in the name of Brimir!"

Louise smiled as she trudged forth, her boots heavy against the ground as she passed by the bleeding corpses and the twitching bodies of the exhaling men she had killed but a moment before.

She carefully let the blade of her sword drop on the shoulder of the guard, and then smiled.

"Are you the last of Count Mott's retinue?"

"Y-yes! He took two to escort him to the Academy, he hasn't returned yet m'lady! Please don't kill me…I have family! Please! My daughter's just turned seven! I—"

"Don't worry," she smiled then kindly. "I am doing _Good_ here. Where are you from?"

"I…I'm from Brussels my lady, it's…"

"Ah, close by isn't that right? Merely two days of walk from here, uhm? Less than one day with a strong steed," she turned thoughtful. "Can't assault the capital without troops after all," she muttered.

"M'lady?" the guard filled with fright, as he saw the chances of surviving slimming down by now.

"Do not worry," Louise said kindly. "Can't let family be separated for long now, can I?"

And then she plunged her sword in the guard's chest, piercing through his ribcage and his lungs, twisting the blade and then pulling it free from the bleeding carcass.

She held the blade high then, and swung it down. A trail of blood drops splattered against the ground as the Runeblade turned out clean, as if it hadn't even been used once.

"Foundermourne," she muttered. "No, that's silly," she said to herself shaking her head. "Mournmourne? No…it's a mouthful."

The Acolytes both stared at her in silence.

"Proceed to loot the building. Kill anyone who doesn't belong to the Scourge," Louise deadpanned.

"Master…I realize it is against protocol…but we could try and haunt the house?"

As Louis voice reached her, she blinked.

"And what is that?"

"Haunting a mine generally means binding spirits to pass through the earth to grasp at materials, who are then syphoned by the necromantic energies directly in the screen's resource counter."

There her familiar went again with those terms.

When was he going to understand she never listened properly when he did that?

"This is a mansion, Louis."

"I suppose it will follow the same principle," Louis remarked.

"Build one, then," she remarked.

"You have Acolytes close by, master. You should leave the mansion before starting the Haunting…I have no idea if the breech of protocol will be something bad or not if you're still within. It might lead to a blue screen of death after all."

"A…A what?"

"A crash?"

"What are you talking about, Louis!" Louise snapped as she began to walk through the mansion, ignoring the piling up bodies —of maids, of all things! What did Count Mott have, a fetish for maids? And they were all skimpily dressed too…

"When Protocol is broken, sometimes it results in a crash."

"A crash? Something falls then?"

"Well, yes," Louis remarked. "The world generally stills and then everything goes black."

"All right, Louis…I had my doubts mind you, but now I'm fairly certain about it," Louise replied scathingly as she grabbed by the scuff of the robes 'Stabby The Second' who was still stabbing at a twitching corpse in the head.

"Stop it! It's obvious the body moves if you stab him in the head, you moronic imbecile!" Louise screeched to the Acolyte who blinked, before looking at the corpse and then standing up —actually clearing its throat and looking slightly embarrassed.

"Gather your other fellow and then let's get outside of here," Louise muttered.

"Louis, you still there?"

"Yes, master."

"Well, I know you're mad, but you don't have to worry about it," she said then. "I mean, I could have gotten something worse as a familiar than a follower of the Scourge whose sole purpose in life is the death of all the living."

"I thank you for the compliment, master."

"Yeah," Louise grumbled to herself. "Look to the bright side Louise, at least he's polite," she muttered.

"Oh, I'll stab you but I'm polite while doing it," she added, "But still, it's polite."

She kicked a body as she left the mansion, and then turned to stare at the two Acolytes flanking her.

"Haunt the mansion!"

The two Acolytes blinked.

"Oh…come on…Louis?"

"I'm coming, master," Louis replied.

Louise heard the neigh of her horse nearby and clicked her tongue, watching him arrive as fast as its skeletal hooves could. She climbed on her steed and then watched as Louis emerged from the bushes.

"Master? Have you given permission to use wood?"

Louise blinked.

She cursed under her breath.

"Yes! You may use the wood in the La Vallière holdings as it is mine by right of blood!"

The next moment, one of the Acolytes brought his hands up.

Bony protrusions erupted from the ground as it quaked, the walls of the mansion torn apart as the entire building collapsed upon itself into a heap of rubble. The bones twitched and green light soon covered the rubble pile, morphing it as…

As it became a mixture of dirt and rocks.

Louise blinked as pentagrams formed around the mansion —for some reason, she knew they were five and located in a pentagram, just as she knew they all tied to the five strange large columns that were deformed and twisted and rested atop the rubble pile like a spider.

The two Acolytes automatically entered a pentagram each, and then they began to move their hands while muttering incantations. At the same time, Louis hummed in approval.

"Good, it works. We have a mine now, master," he remarked. "Shall we produce a Crypt and amass five ghouls' worth of army?"

"Place some Ziggurat around here," Louise replied. "I don't know how long it will be until my fellow classmates decide to barge in…" she looked at the night sky, "Probably at dawn.

"Then this is a defence mission," Louis said earnestly. "Towers shall be of the uttermost importance, as well as Blighted ground. Are we to expect flying units?"

"All mages can levitate," she replied.

All mages except her, because she wasn't a mage…she never was one, was she?

"Then we will need a Cemetery to unlock the Crypt Fiends from the Crypt," Louis hummed in understanding. "Should I summon more Acolytes?"

"Do so," Louise nodded. "Run the mansion…the mine dry," she replied.

She actually felt tired then.

Louise clasped on the reigns of her skeletal steed and slowly let her head bob down gently. Her eyes fluttered to a close a moment later, as if a great wool cloth pushed with force against them. She felt incredibly tired.

So, so tired…

Louis watched unfazed as his master fell asleep on her horse. Good, so the mission was completed.

He supposed the first mission had been something of the sort 'Start off a base of operation with a Necropolis and a Mine'.

Still, she had needed nearly an entire day to set one up —two considering his summoning the day before…

Well, she was a bit of a newbie, but she was growing up to be a fine Death Knight.

Leaving her to snore peacefully on her steed —something all Death Knight knew instinctively how to do— he watched as the blighted terrain extended. The Necropolis was in sight, floating gently above the tree line and a clear and visible mark of the Scourge's presence in the land.

He waited patiently for the gold to trickle in, enough for the Crypt.

The moment he summoned the building, Louis nodded with satisfaction and let it glow green as Ghouls began to come forth from the Great Beyond.

The Cemetery followed next.

Louise's sleep wasn't happy, or filled with nice dreams.

She was back at home, standing on the boat in the middle of the lake and hiding from her family —her mother in particular— when she felt the boat rock slightly.

She slowly stood up, peering beyond the edges of the 'ship' as she affectionately believed the wooden craft to be.

There was no water in the lake.

Only the fishes remained, flopping around and gasping for air as they began to rot beneath the sun. The land was purplish and black, Blighted.

She could hear the sound of fire crackling and of swords meeting with bones, long guttural growls followed by screams of the wounded.

She slowly stood from the boat, and then felt the ground tremble as it rose with her to let her see beyond the lake's edges

She watched the La Vallière lands burn as near the horizon an army of bulking undead creatures strode forward with purpose, screaming and bellowing as sickening horns sounded to show the charge of the hordes.

She screamed at the sight of Cattleya skewered alive by skeletons, or of Eleanor on the ground in a pool of blood.

She turned her gaze back, to avoid watching the scenes of carnage.

In that moment, she came face to face with Count Mott. He wasn't alive, merely a zombie with pale skin and stitched shut mouth.

Yet the stiches came less and he screamed then, mere inches away from her face.

"Heathen! Blasphemer! Necromancer!"

Louise's eyes opened to the dawning sky.

She was inside a stone room —spacious, much more spacious than anything she had ever seen before.

Long black drapes, magnificent glass windows, black marble floor and walls...walls covered with exquisite paintings and furniture strewn across the room.

There was a knock at the door then.

The door by itself was massive, a jet-black thing that had golden handles. She stood up then, feeling the soft caresses of…

Satin?

Who the hell had changed her clothes!?

"You may enter," she said then briskly, sitting by sheer mechanic habitude in front of the vanity and looking at her reflection in the mirror.

There really was little to be 'vane' about.

Her strawberry blond hair? Sickly pale and more of a golden-white colour than before. Her eyes? Dark and sunken, an icy glare the most she could muster of 'amicable' —her worse was something that brought _frost_ to form on the mirror.

She was taller however. She realized that as she looked at her arms, far longer than before. Even her hands had become bigger —probably the reason she actually could wield a sword with ease. With the armour, she hadn't realized it.

Louis entered through the door, his arms hidden in his sleeves.

"Master, have you slept well?"

"I have," Louise muttered. "Who brought me here?"

"I did, master," Louis acquiesced. "You fell from your horse." That was the sole reason he had moved her to the Necropolis. She still needed some 'training' on how to properly fall asleep on a saddle.

"Who changed me?"

"I did, master," Louis replied with ease. "Sleeping in armour is uncomfortable, and as part of your retinue it was my duty to do so."

She didn't even feel angry about that. He _was_ doing his job. Sure, she didn't feel happy, but the bored way he said that left her slightly pissed all the same.

Damn, he had seen her in her underwear, and there was no embarrassment? What was she to him anyway, a slab of meat?

She supposed the thought wasn't that farfetched. He had said the Scourge wasn't fond of 'earthly desires'.

Maybe he was a eunuch…

"Where are we now, Louis?"

"Your chambers in the Necropolis, master," Louis remarked. "The Scourge stands ready. It will take at most two days to empty the mine of its wealth, master. The second mission will probably be to defend our first foothold in this area."

"There's a village close by, right?" Louise grumbled dryly. "Can we use that too?"

Louis raised an eyebrow. "A village…"

He turned thoughtful.

"Maybe it will be the next mission, master. We gain enough resources, we defend the base, and then we move on to upgrading the Necropolis to a Halls of the Dead."

He nodded as he said that. "We unlock the Slaughterhouse and create Meat Wagons, while also taking care of making a Temple of the Damned for the Necromancers."

He brought a hand out from his sleeve and towards his chin, beneath the blue scarf.

"That is an apt solution."

"I was thinking more about raiding their winter supplies," Louise remarked. "Villages start stocking on wood for the winter months early, so they don't have to do it during the summer months which are the hottest or the autumn ones when it's rain season and the temperatures start dropping abruptly."

"I gladly obey, master," he bowed. "Shall we see to the defences?"

"Make way," Louise sighed as she stood.

She stopped for a moment.

"Ah, master," Louis remarked. "Do not worry. The armour is automatically equipped when you leave your resting area."

"Right."

She had to remember this type of magic was bizarre…then again, it was the same as that of Founder Brimir so it was obvious.

Still, the dream weighted heavily on Louise's mind.

She knew she wasn't wrong about what she was doing. She knew her mother would gladly tell her that —she was following the rule of steel after all, she'd be a hypocrite to say anything against her.

Louise was justified in her actions.

She was acting on the Founder's will.

Even if it meant having to turn everyone into undead creatures.

**Author's notes**

**Mission Completed. **

**Next Mission Starts.**

**Base Defence.**

**There will be a 'Hero' per type.**

**Thinking on who to put as Crypt Lord.**


	6. All must bow to the Lich King

An Acolyte of Zero

Chapter Six

She was standing atop her steed, watching the vast distension of felled trees carried by a group of ghouls. The creatures worked with alacrity, uncaring of toil or fatigue. Five Acolytes prayed and whispered dark magical words as the mansion was syphoned of its wealth.

Five ghouls chopped the trees, creating visible corridors all around them, preventing the enemy's troops from hiding.

Standing there, on the highest spot available, Louise tugged on the reins of her horse and then turned to look at the Crypt Fiends.

Those things…they were giant spiders. Now, she had been scared of spiders —and insects— when she had been little, but these…these Crypt Fiends were to spiders what Griffons were to hummingbirds. They were thrice the length of a ghoul and taller by a good head. If their numerous legs weren't enough, their beady eyes and always oozing poison fangs —from which spit could come out acidic— completed a nice painting of hell itself on Earth.

A _crawling_ hell on Earth.

"The sleeper awakes," the Crypt Fiend closer to her stood at full attention, speaking with its deep and raspy voice.

She could see the Ziggurat, four and placed in a square formation around her Necropolis, stand tall and with shining teal and purple crystals floating from them. They alternated the colours, and as the souls of the Damned moaned around their necromantic energies, she felt at ease beneath their protective powers.

Three Crypt Fiends skittered to a halt next to her, followed by four Ghouls and Louis, who seemed pleased with himself for some reason.

"Master," he began silkily. "We can research improvements for the Scourge's Undead in the Cemetery if you so wish. The extraction is proceeding well, but one of our scouts…"

"I saw," the Crypt Fiend to the right of the three new arrivals spoke then. "Flying Griffons, a carriage pulled by horses with horns…the rotten stench of the living."

Louise raised an eyebrow and then looked towards Louis.

"Master, Griffon Knights are highly advanced units of the Humans," Louis was actually excited as he said that. "If they're guarding a carriage, then they must be protecting…"

Griffon Corps.

It was then that it struck her.

_The Princess was near_.

"I suspected as much, master," Louis said. "Capturing her must be the final mission of the Tutorial then!"

"All right Louis, I had my doubts but now this is clearly a proof," Louise muttered. "Are you reading my mind?"

"Master, you deliver orders to us through your magical potential…we merely obey what you will," Louis replied. "You talk to us, and we _all_ listen."

Louise closed her eyes.

"I should have told you this earlier, master?" Louis said then. "Why? I mean…Ah, you didn't know?"

Grumbling beneath her breath, she looked at her troops —really, why was she expecting him to be lying to her?

"So, we try and get the Princess now…or we wait and reinforce," Louise muttered.

She snorted after a moment.

"Louis! Build a few more Ziggurat and upgrade their defences, I'll—"

It was then that an explosion tore through the ground near her, forcing her skeletal steed to neigh as it began to dash away from the source of impact. A Ghoul and two Crypt Fiends turned to smithereens, while the rest of her army frantically scrambled back in place.

Louise looked above; when she saw the levitating forms of…

Of the Academy's _teachers_…she just knew things had taken a turn for the worse.

Why had she been expecting Kirche or someone else to come down on her?

"Mademoiselle Vallière!" professor Colbert's voice rang clearly through the sky. "Please surrender! There needs not to be blood spilled for your actions! Your familiar is—"

"MY FAMILIAR IS THE GANDALFR!" she bellowed back, forcing to a silent shock the mages floating just meters out of the towers' range. "And as he is the left hand of God, the familiar of a Void mage, then that makes me the heir of the Founder's Will!" she twirled her Runeblade in the air, pointing it venomously at the professor.

"Is that true, Jean?" the voice of Chevreuse the Red Clay came from Colbert's side, as he grimaced.

"I have no idea. I merely glanced at the runes on the man's hand…but the librarian did say Mademoiselle Vallière was in the forbidden section and had been looking through Void-related books."

"Those…those disgusting creatures cannot belong to the Founder's faith!" Guiteau, the Wind Mage teacher of the academy, screamed as he thrust his wand as if to enunciate his point towards a ghoul down below. The man's raggled dirty blond hair and pale blue eyes complemented nicely his pale skin, which was even _paler_ due to his fear.

"Isn't Count Mott's mansion supposed to be around here?" Chevreuse said then.

"That pile of rubble…whatever dark ritual they're conducting on it…that's where the mansion was," Colbert spoke dryly then, his eyes acquiring a hard and cold glare.

"You think Count Mott survived?" Guiteau muttered.

"I don't think these things are much for leaving surviv—" Colbert's sentence remained unfinished as a massive blob of acid suddenly soared in the air, spat out from the Crypt Fiends.

He dodged, barely managing to avoid the threat as it instead completely singed Chevreuse, making the Earth mage plummet to the ground. The moment Chevreuse fell, Guiteau summoned forth a gust of wind to prevent her from becoming a bloody pulp against the dirt.

Colbert's hand twitched as he summoned forth a brilliant fire snake, sending it downwards on a path of ashes.

Chevreuse's screams of pain echoed in his ears as the Ghoul creatures neared her, only for his snake to form a barrier in front of her. Guiteau descended as fast as he could, probably to try to float Chevreuse away. In that instant, Louise de La Vallière rode forward, sword in hand —why she used a sword rather than her wand…

"Death Coil!" Louise screamed, as the bolt of green energy slammed into the descending Guiteau, who ended up as a crumbled heap of broken bones and blood against the ground. Chevreuse's screams intensified, Colbert's eyes widened.

Louise merely looked at the Crypt Fiends standing ready next to her, and at the Ghouls, which she still had.

"What are you waiting for!? _**RIDE…OR DIE!**_"

To that bellowing roar, Louise charged forward with her skeletal steed shrieking. The Death Knight stomped through the fire without caring about the flames, pushing her blade straight through the Earth Mage's chest, twisting it and then pulling it free with a sickening squelch.

Chevreuse's screams of fear and pain were no more.

Jean twisted in mid-air, sending ill-aimed fireballs back as he tried to keep himself afloat. He had no doubt he'd be surrounded and killed if he landed, but if he didn't then aiming was tricky indeed —especially having to dodge acidic blobs.

He had hoped the student would see reason. Couldn't she realize what she was doing was extremely wrong? Something didn't add up: maybe her familiar was responsible, maybe not, but unless something was done…he hastily pulled back as a sickly green bolt nearly hit —the thing actually changed trajectory to pursue him!

He had to fling a fireball at it, letting the bolt detonate away, but he could feel his concentration waver. It was then that he heard the flapping of powerful wings and spun just in time to see the blue dragon of Miss Tabitha come down to grab at him. He didn't dodge that, since it brought him out of the fire of the acid missiles from the Crypt Fiends.

Tabitha's dragon pulled him on its back, making him scowl as he saw the blue haired girl hold her impassive face while staring back at him. The Zerbst girl was 'aboard' too, smiling bashfully.

"Professor! The Germanian and Gallian Alliance welcomes you!"

"This isn't a game!" Colbert yelled back, "We must leave and warn the headmaster now! Mademoiselle Louise is meddling with powers she cannot comprehend! Chevreuse and Guiteau are both dead!"

Kirche's face morphed into a grimace. "Flame's dead too, professor."

"I hope you are not here for revenge, Miss Zerbst."

"No," the red-haired dark skinned beauty said crisply. "But to bring down a la Vallière? My family would love to know that."

"Miss Tabitha? You too?"

"Look after," the blue-haired girl said in her meek voice, looking at Kirche as if she were nothing more than a scared puppy in need of protection.

"Sylphid, dodge!" Kirche yelled then as a massive blob of acid nearly slammed on the dragon's side. Sylphid flapped its powerful wings, beginning to circle around the buildings.

Louise growled from down below.

"Take. Them. Down!"

"By Nerub," the Crypt Fiends remarked. Louis remained quiet as the reinforcements came through the Great Beyond.

"Master?" he said then, as he felt another sharp explosion tear chunks away from a Ziggurat —perilously close to the mine itself. "Might I suggest upgrading the Necropolis? A Halls of the Dead will unlock the upgrade for webbing."

"DO SO, LOUIS!" Louise bellowed as she flung a Death Coil towards the dragon, who flapped its wings to stop in mid-air, twisted its body and then fell down at incredible speed to avoid the lethal green bolt of death.

Colbert's eyes narrowed in surprise as he saw a green phosphorescent light cover the giant structure. Ethereal-looking rivers of green miasma appeared to fall from its sides, as dark green light pulsed all across the building.

"More spiders! Summon more Ziggurats!" Louise yelled, "Keep them away!"

"We need more resources, master," Louis remarked.

"Professor," Kirche said, suddenly looking towards the horizon, "Are those…"

Colbert's head sharply turned to where…to where a horde of Griffon Knights was swiftly flying through the skies towards them.

"Enemy reinforcements! Griffon Knights!" Louis said then, just as Louise was already snarling.

"Spiders! Scatter in the forest!"

The next moment, the Crypt Fiends —while offended at the nickname of 'spiders'— obeyed. They spread wide and far, as Louise pulled her steed forward and began to climb with it atop a Ziggurat. There was a moment of silent tension as she realized there were _seven_ Griffon Knights incoming.

Seven…they might be too many.

"No," Colbert moaned as his eyes widened. "NO! GET BACK! DON'T GET TOO CLOSE!" his yells however rang on deaf ears, as the Griffon Knights actually pushed forth —the wind and the noise of battle, mixed with the moans of the undead construction impeded hearing after all.

"Hold!" Louise said with sweat trickling down her brow. She bit her lip. "Hold…"

The Griffon Knights passed the first of the Crypt Fiends.

They passed the second.

They came into range of the Nerubian Towers and Spirit Towers.

"FIRE!" at Louise's scream, she flung forth her own Death Coil, which soon met with the spitting of the spiders and the shrieking volleys of _souls_ the towers fired.

Colbert stared with his mouth wide as Griffon Knights, the mighty soldiers and personal retinues of the Royalty itself…fell like flies.

The Griffon tried to dodge, but the barrage of acid spit simply seemed _guided_ by magic to hit them. It was preposterous and impossible, but…but what other explanation was there for that?

The monstrous spiders' acid burned through the stomachs of the Griffons, as they squawked and let out screams of agony before falling on the ground, all the while the turrets pierced them with their condensed necromantic energies.

A ray of pure teal and frost beheaded a Griffon Knight trying to retreat, the ice encasing him and making him fall from his mount to crash in a thousand pieces on the ground, like a broken statue. A Griffon spun in mid-air, its left wing torn into a pulp of matted flesh and bones, and fell with a sickening noise against the side of a Ziggurat.

Louise watched the wizard stumble out from his Griffon, holding his hands to his head. She pointed, and two Ghouls charged with their teeth showing at the mage in question, before he could pull out his wand.

His screams made her day.

She twisted her sword deeply into the side of a Griffon that had managed to land on its feet, albeit with the side scorched by the acid of the Crypt Fiends.

The knight aboard was non-responsive, hanging limply and with the upper half of his body literally _melted off_. She could smell the burnt flesh from her position, even as she brought her sword down to cleave at the Griffon's neck and ended up sprayed with the creature's blood.

The creature fell down with a thud.

"Master, you may spend a point."

"Unholy Aura," Louise deadpanned.

The Ghouls had been fast before.

Now, they just entered a state of _frenzy_ as the light wounds they received from the dying griffons knitted themselves to a close in instants.

Louise herself felt stronger as she gripped the Runeblade with a ferocious smirk on her face. Of the seven Griffon knights that attacked, only two managed to escape.

The Ghouls feasted on the corpses as Louise watched with the corner of her eye Professor Colbert, Tabitha and Kirche giving a wide berth to her base as they flew back towards the Academy.

"They'll need time to mount another assault," Louise muttered. "Louis, how fares the army?"

"The Ghouls are feasting, my master. The Halls of the Dead shall be completed…" with a loud moan, the ethereal green light that covered the Necropolis dispersed, leaving behind the completed and expanded construction of the Scourge.

Rivers of a green liquid poured from the sides of the Halls of the Dead, which vaporized into a green mist just as the wind picked it up and let it fall as a gentle drizzle in the surrounding areas. In that moment, necromantic energies ran through their Crypt Fiends as they shuddered at the same time.

"The Cemetery research will proceed on Webbing and Burrowing, master," Louis said. "We should prepare ambushes."

"We will," Louise remarked. "For today though, I think the assaults will end." She looked over at her army. "Uhm…Louis?"

"Yes, master?"

"The Blight makes us strong, right?"

"Yes, Master."

"Are there ways to expand it, beyond building?"

"Would you wish for me to summon a Tomb of Relics, master?"

Louise blinked. "A what?"

"A Tomb of Relics…it is a specialized summoning altar of sorts for objects, but unfortunately it appears to the blocked by the mission requirements."

Louise clicked her tongue against her teeth.

"Doesn't matter," she remarked, tugging on the reins of her horse and forcing it to trot towards the half-devoured corpses the Ghoul had left behind. "I think my fiancé was in the Griffon Corps…he was the Commander of them to begin with," she softly added. "He was everything I was not. He had power, he had skill…he made himself from his rank of low nobility. I was the Third Daughter of the La Vallière family, and so they gave my hand to him."

She didn't know why she was talking about it. Maybe she just felt like it.

"Now I'm no longer weak," she chortled. "I'm strong, powerful…and I owe it all to you, Louis. You opened my eyes to this power, this strength," her left hand came up as she clasped it tightly into a fist, the gauntlet clicking from the metal rasping against metal.

"This is merely the power of the Scourge, Master," Louis replied. She looked back to the Halls of the Dead, and saw him standing there on a nearby Ziggurat, his arms as always hidden by his robes' sleeves.

"Maybe," Louise acquiesced. "But for my entire life, I prayed to Brimir for magic. I prayed to him to give me something, anything that would make my mother proud and my sisters fond of me. I begged him in the middle of the day and I cried to him in the darkest hours of the night. Failure after failure…Louise the Zero was just the last of the monikers assigned to me." Her eyes went up, to the brightening sky as the sun was reaching for the middle of the morning.

"How fast can the steed of Death ride, Louis?" Louise asked then.

"As fast as the need of the rider, Master."

"Summon forth fifteen Ghouls," she said then crisply. "Send them towards Tristania with an Acolyte to prepare a forward base of harassment."

"Master?"

Louise trotted towards him then, stopping her skeletal steed and dismounting from it.

"The Princess is a powerful mage, but she will have to choose between us or her subjects in the capital…and the capital has _noble interests_. Cardinal Mazarin will aim to appease those, and the Princess will follow. Especially if a giant Necropolis pops up near their walls."

"Master, let me go," Louis said eagerly. "For the Lich King, for Ner'zhul…let me serve you greatly in this, master. I was there when Stratholme was conquered for the Scourge master…I know how to fight house by house. I was there when Dalaran fell…"

"No," Louise's reply was actually bitter. "You are my familiar. Your duty is to remain by my side, understood?"

"Yes master, of course…" Louis bowed deeply. "I will send an Acolyte then."

Her eyes coldly moved back to the horizon. "Scatter the spiders around our camp. Have them burrow beneath the ground when research is completed."

She didn't dare to ask what 'research' meant. Her expectation of 'research' was studying on books for days or weeks, looking for something that she had previously missed. The Scourge's 'Research' was more of a 'tell the Cemetery to upgrade the Units' thing.

It was bizarre to say the least.

"Master, a man and a woman approach."

Louise turned her gaze towards the direction Louis was pointing, and her eyes narrowed to fissures as she saw a Griffon fly holding on to a white flag. It was the sign of peace and of ambassadors. Did the heathens finally wish to parlay?

"Let them come down —nobody touches them!"

The Ghouls snarled but obeyed, moving to chop the nearby trees, as they were unneeded now. Two mages descended from the Griffon. The Crypt Fiends licked their fangs and drooled on the ground, looking at the magnificent flying beast as if it were a juicy steak.

The Griffon squawked in nervousness, ruffling its feathers.

A pale skinned and purple haired woman strode forward with purpose, followed closely by a blond haired man wearing a large hat with a plume.

"No closer," Louise stated bringing up her left hand.

The two stopped then. Tension rose between the two parties as the Crypt Fiends carefully began to skitter and encircle them both. Hearing their deep throaty breaths and watching them was unnerving in its own right, but seeing the Crypt Fiends displaying their stingers and their fangs…

It made blood run cold.

"Louise?" Henrietta's voice broke the silence. "Is that really you, Louise?"

"I am the Darkness," Louise remarked dryly. "I never answer the calls." She chuckled.

"Ahem," Louis coughed.

"What?" Louise replied. "I can't make a joke?"

Henrietta's eyes widened in perplexity —she couldn't understand what it was all about.

"Yes," Louise grumbled in the end. "I am Louise Françoise le Blanc de la Vallière, and just as once I was your childhood friend, now I am this that you see," she smiled. "Then again, the choice was between this and death, and you have no idea how boring it is to be dead, princess."

Louise's smile turned feral. "But we can remedy that, can't we?"

"Louise," Wardes spoke next. "Do you not remember me? I am your—"

"Ah, yes, my fiancé," Louise rolled her eyes. "Tell mother the marriage is annulled, would you? I have a duty to uphold to the Founder." She nodded towards Louis, who slowly strode forward to stand next to her.

"This is Louis, my familiar…and the Gandalfr. Yes, princess, I am a Void Mage…you aren't one, are you? Then, if you would be so kind as to abdicate in my favour, no more blood will need to be spilled…"

"Louise," Henrietta's hands twitched as the princess looked downcast. "My mother is the Queen…if what you say is true then…then I would have abdicated without the need of this…I would have named you my heir, if that was your wish —I didn't want this…"

She looked towards Louis then. "Are you really the Founder's left hand of God? How can I know you are not lying to my dear friend? And what of these creatures? Why did they attack my retinue?"

"All must bow to serve the Lich King," Louis replied frostily. "If the Founder followed his will, then the Founder was one of the Scourge and the Cult of the Damned."

"Lich?" Henrietta's mouth flapped open like a fish. "I…Louise, please…if you ever valued our friendship look around! Do you think this is the Founder's will!? He never spoke of this! He never used these…these abominations!"

Louise tugged the reins of her steed to turn around, moving to trot away.

"In regards to our past friendship, Henrietta…I will let you go for now," she gave a narrowed glance of displeasure towards Wardes. "The same for you, my ex-Fiancé," she growled then, "But if you will not surrender your country to me by tomorrow at Dawn, you will find out that the Scourge knows no mercy for the blasphemers."

Wardes was the first to climb back on his griffon, before helping Henrietta up and then flying away. He would never admit it…but he had been _scared_ in that moment.

The sense of…finality of Louise's words…it was bone chilling.

**Author's notes**

**This chapter done.**


	7. Steelmourne

An Acolyte of Zero

Chapter Seven

This wasn't how she planned on meeting with her childhood friend again.

"Master, the dawn is coming."

This really wasn't how she planned on making her mother proud.

"Master, the Crypt Fiends are in position."

This wasn't how she wanted to become famous, famous like Karin the Heavy Wind.

"The Ziggurats have expanded, my master. There is nothing but blight around us for miles."

She held on to the reins of her skeletal horse, and finally deigned to look to her side, where Louis stood in his usual pose. His eyes shone with excitement.

She nodded, and then turned to gaze at her amassed army.

"Louis, I leave the defence of the place to you and the Crypt Fiends. I will mount an assault…"

Louise exhaled.

She clenched onto her blade, and then muttered. "Tell me, Louis…what would you call my blade, if you had to give it a nickname?"

Louis remained quiet. He looked sideways for a moment, and then he finally spoke. "When Arthas claimed Frostmourne, he did so amid the icy peaks of Northrend, sacrificing one of his must trustworthy friends in order to do so."

His gaze went to the ground. "I think…you will find the name of your sword when such a feat happens."

"I see," Louise nodded. "Then so be it."

She clicked her tongue against her teeth, and the horse began its unyielding charge.

A Ghoul required eighteen seconds to summon. A Ziggurat required instead fifty seconds. For every Crypt, one could summon a Unit of the Scourge at a time. A single Ziggurat provided 'food' for five Ghouls, just like the Necropolis did. However, that 'food' was circumstantial. It was more like 'necromantic energies' consumed to bring the creature into the world.

Once it arrived, it would remain even when the building that provided it 'food' was gone.

She had spent nearly an entire day amassing troops. Eighteen seconds a Ghoul, fifty seconds when a Ziggurat was required, thirty seconds for a Crypt Fiend. The only problem was the resource gathering. That too required time. The Acolyte worked by calling forth ten units of gold every time they pronounced their incantations, and the Ghouls too needed time to carry the lumber to 'off-screen' wherever it was.

She would have valued Count Mott's mansion at two thousand Ecus, but apparently the furniture, the priceless antiquities, the gold and precious gems already within increased its wealth.

Louis had assured her…_ten thousand pieces_ of Gold were in the 'Mine'.

They would finish by the time night rolled around, only four thousand and something bits remaining. She couldn't help but _salivate_ at the thought of what the capital contained in terms of wealth. The only problem would be the numbers of the enemy, but she held no scrupulous conjectures over it.

Thirty Ghouls followed her, a mass of bones and claws that showed no sign of fatigue. Louis himself had been surprised when they had hit the 'Food Limit' and gone beyond it.

She hadn't asked what it was about.

Her army moved across the blighted land and into the still richly green forest, which eventually her ghouls would cut down, a claw swipe after another. She watched the floating Necropolis and the concentric rings of defences, the slight mounds of dirt that hid the presence of her Crypt Fiends…

Then she gave an order that would haunt her forever.

"Acolyte, begin the assault on Tristania. Louis, share resources with him as you see fit."

She clenched on her reins. "You all have your orders…follow them!"

_The Academy_

Cardinal Mazarin was not afraid. He was a mage, and he stood surrounded by mages. A flick of the wrist and the right incantation and this 'threat' would be over with… he was so sure of it, that when a messenger arrived on a fast and slick dragon to warn that the capital was being assaulted, he paled.

Surely, he had thought they would meet upon a convened field at a convened hour to do battle.

He hadn't expected them to act like barbarians, completely ignoring the protocol of warfare.

The Headmaster's office had a map, showing where the army of the demon worshipper was. The Academy could count on at least twenty well-trained mages, and at a minimum, one hundred students of different years could hold a wand in a pinch.

The Princess' own retinue of guards —what remained of it— was one of the best. They had failed only because they had been caught by surprise during their scouting, not because the enemy was powerful or whatever. They hadn't flung a single spell back at them, so of course it had seemed as if there was no hope.

The Cardinal bit down on his nails, looking towards the map. If he didn't send the Princess back to defend the Capital, it would be a blow to the pride of royalty. The Queen could not fight, but unless he returned…

"Princess, this is dire news indeed," he began softly. "We must ask the aid of our Germanian allies." He disliked doing so, but there was no other solution in his head.

"And what will they demand? To keep their armies in our country for peacekeeping reasons?" Henrietta muttered back. "I understand the need to marry, Cardinal. I will not sell the freedom of my people to Germania however. Send a message to the troops; send a message to the countryside, to all nobles available. Send an envoy to Romalia; warn Gallia and Albion for…"

"Princess, princess," the Cardinal began smoothly. "Certainly you jest. We cannot warn the outside of such a problem, especially not if mademoiselle Vallière is who she claims to be. Unless we defeat her, it is for the best everything is kept…silent."

"We need the nobles organized and ready to mount a defence!" Henrietta exclaimed. "I do not wish to shed blood, but there is no choice!"

"For all we saw, they only have a single mage, and from what I was told, said mage is unable to even cast the simplest of spells," the Cardinal smoothly remarked. "What can she do, alone as she is against an entire country?"

"HEADMASTER!" professor Colbert barged in. "An enemy column…Miss Vallière is leading the attack!"

Headmaster Osmond frowned and then opened the window. "Have the teachers ready to bring forth the barrier, Colbert," he said then.

The Cardinal's eyes widened. He counted at least a platoon of strength in the enemy's monstrosities. Where had the girl found such numbers? The monsters snarled as the enemy settled on the nearby hill.

"All right," Henrietta said, swallowing nervously. "I'll go and talk to her."

"Your highness, no!" the Cardinal exclaimed. "She's…"

"She is my dear friend, Cardinal," Henrietta retorted hotly. "Misguided as she may be, she will forever be Louise."

She began to walk towards the door, "And I know she will see the wrongness of her actions."

"Dangerous," Tabitha said from her spot in the corner, standing up with her staff in hand. "Sylphid is fast."

"Little girl," Wardes said then. "My Griffon is faster," he added softly. "I applaud your courage, but leave this in the hands of grownups."

Wardes then stepped outside behind the Princess. The Cardinal bit down on his hands, before looking towards Osmond. "Will the barrier hold?"

"It will, but that will prevent us from leaving for the capital."

"It is not a problem...the Capital has its guards and platoon."

_Tristania_

The monsters were supposed to be there.

They weren't.

Holding his shield high, the guardsman walked into the small and unlit corner of the street, where minutes before a 'giant spider' had been seen spitting and melting alive a few of the citizens. Their corpses lay on the cobblestone, the few with a face held a look of shock and fright beyond what he had ever seen before.

He stepped in the shadows.

He heard the ground shift beneath his feet.

"This will sting just a bit," the Crypt Fiend said as its fangs gripped tightly upon the man who screamed as loud as he could as his stomach was chowed out of his body and the poison injected paralyzed him. He numbly saw the spider return below the ground, leaving behind nothing but a few loose cobblestones to indicate its passage.

Then again, he was already dead by then.

The Acolyte remained with his eyes closed in concentration, as he mentally ordered the Crypt Fiends to stay still. The walls had been easy to pass. There was no moat surrounding Tristania, and in the middle of the day the drawbridge had been down to let the merchants in and out.

He had merely ordered a full-out assault of the Ghoul units to distract them from their rear, where the Necropolis was slowly but surely coming up. The screams of the guardsmen were music to his ears…but then again, the screams of all living creatures dying were.

Fifteen ghouls charged through the cobblestone road, slaughtering their way through the general population towards the royal palace. Their claws slashed at the back of the retreating villagers, the screams of the women mixing with the cries of the children left behind.

The Scourge did not differentiate.

A ghoul turned a corner, ready to pounce on the next living thing that met his eyes.

His reward was of a sword slicing his head apart, making the skull roll on the ground before an armoured boot smashed it to bits.

"Men!" a burly voice belonging to a hazel haired and dark eyed man erupted from the fully armoured individual. He held his sword in his right hand and his shield in the left, with the symbol of Tristain blazed upon his chestplate. "They can die!" he yelled, "So kill these monsters!"

The _fifty_ armoured men behind their Captain bellowed a mighty roar.

"FOR TRISTAIN! FOR THE QUEEN!"

The Acolyte frowned. He supposed there was a need for more troops. The few spiders Louis had given under his command were doing a nice job —basically, he could just leave them alone. The ghouls on the other hand…

They were clashing against overwhelming forces in a district close to the royal palace. Apparently, passed the initial moment of shock, the living had found it in their hearts to start fighting back.

The claws of the Ghouls bounced off the steel shields, as the swords cut through their ribs and cracked their bones.

"Captain Mordeau!" a guardsman screamed, holding his shield up to protect his face. "What are these things!?"

"Monsters! That is all you need to know son!" Mordeau replied, letting his sword swish as he brought it down on the skull of a Ghoul close to him, the beast snarled back and pushed ahead with its bony shoulders, trying to bite the wrist of the hand that held his shield.

Mordeau stepped backwards, before stabbing the monster through the ribs, yelling in triumph…until the thing kept on moving, and he pushed him away, letting go of his sword.

"Damn it!" the Captain exclaimed.

The Ghoul snarled in gleeful satisfaction as it ran towards the weaponless Captain. Mordeau gripped tightly on his shield.

The next moment, a resounding 'Gong' echoed in the air as the shield bashing against it caved in the Ghoul's face. Mordeau jumped on top of the fallen Ghoul then, and pummelled him while using his shield as a sort of hammer, holding the edges of the rectangular metal with both hands.

"AND. STAY. DEAD!"

"Captain!" one of his men screamed as he turned to gaze at another Ghoul, who had pushed through the ranks as fast as it could and was now in mid-air, claws extended and salivating with its giant teeth. Mordeau looked at the creature mere inches away from his face, and then the crackling sound of a musket brought him back to reality as the Ghoul _yelped_ and fell limp on the ground.

A bullet had cracked his skull in half.

"Stand up Captain!" a female voice yelled from the end of the street. "The Queen's Guard is here!"

Mordeau stood back up, clasping his shield to his left arm once more as he pulled the sword free from the Ghoul's ribs.

"Took you a long time!"

"Sorry," Agnes replied with a gruff tone. "We had to make sure the Queen was safe."

"Is her Highness…"

"She's worried for the Princess," the blond haired Agnes muttered. "Whatever these monsters are…they might be the same that attacked her retinue."

"Captain!" one of the swordsmen yelled, "They're retreating!"

"Don't let them escape! Get all of them!" Mordeau gave a nod towards Agnes, and then charged ahead with his men. "COME ON, MEN OF TRISTANIA, DEFEND YOUR HOMES!"

"TRISTANIA!" they yelled back.

The Acolyte exhaled slowly. Next to him, a Ziggurat shone brightly as it became a Spirit Tower.

The Crypt was soon completed, and as the blight slowly began to creep upon the land near the city, he had an idea.

It was extremely stupid…but it could just work.

_Louis_

There was nothing to defend against, and he was sure this was sort of overlooking the true point of the matter. He was wasting units that could be used somewhere. He stood within the Halls of the Dead room assigned to military matters, and as he overviewed the maps laid neatly in front of him —courtesy of Count Mott's villa, because the Haunting strangely 'summoned' them directly in the room— he couldn't help but wonder why this felt wrong.

It wasn't the doing two missions at once thing, no, it had happened more than once that one side held the hero and a fixed amount of units, while the other held the building side of it.

It was probably the resources and the lack of the Food limit.

He hadn't expected Count Mott's Haunted Villa to yield that much, and that surprised him. What truly made him wary however were the _numbers_ of enemies they would thus met. Without a food limit, who was to say the enemy didn't have thousands of troops?

A single Crypt and a single mine weren't enough to sustain an army in the thousands.

Where to find resources however?

It was then that his eyes settled on another village close by —merely half a day of travel. Instead of Brussels…

Tarbes.

He knew he was disobeying orders, taking the Crypt Fiends and heading towards there but…

But he was acting for the benefit of the Scourge and maybe…maybe that would be enough to earn a jump in the sacrificial pits?

_The Academy_

Louise eyed Henrietta and Wardes arriving on the Captain's Griffon. She watched them descend, and stood in wait atop her horse. Her Ghouls remained behind, licking their claws and generally doing 'Ghoul' sounds.

Sometimes, a few would start a 'Wazzup' hula. It was _unnerving_ to say the least.

"Louise," Henrietta began, "Please stop this." The Princess' eyes were circled by rings the result of sleep deprivation, and her skin was paler than usual. "If I ever wronged you in some way, please tell me and I will do my uttermost to amend…If anyone among the students of the Academy wronged you, if anyone among my nobles wronged you…just tell me and this will end. I'll make sure you will be kept with all regards and your familiar will pay for the lies he has told you."

Louise looked at Henrietta, and then laughed.

"You think…he lies?" the once strawberry blond girl shook her head gently, her sunken eyes narrowing to fissures. "Do not presume I am so easy to fool, Henrietta. I remember all too well our games in youth. In the end, I always won."

"Except one time, Louise Françoise," Henrietta remarked.

"I was told to let you win," Louise commented. "Then again, it's not important. We grew together as friends, and yet I was the one who had to be complacent while you went in the gardens to play with your cousin, Prince Wales."

Henrietta turned beet red. "Wh—What are you implying, Louise Françoise! That is improper for a lady even to speak of!"

"I don't care if you rutted with him or not!" Louise yelled, her Runeblade now dangerously pointed at her. "I don't care of our past friendship, of our future or of whatever has to come. I spent years as a shadow, yours. Then I spent years a mocked, pitiful girl who couldn't even cast a proper levitation! I had to bow my head to nobles who were supposed to be licking my boots! I had to suffer incessantly through teases, jokes and name callings!" she clenched tightly on her reins.

"I have been ridiculed enough," she whispered. "If I have to cast away my name, I shall! If I have to cast away my allegiance to you, I shall! If I have to shred my soul, feed it to my blade and then head to battle for the Lich King…then I shall! I am no longer a shadow! I am no longer Louise the Zero!" the skeletal horse neighed as Henrietta took a few steps back, in fear.

"I am Louise Françoise, Death Knight of the Lich King! I am Founder Brimir's heir, a Void Mage!" Louise smiled then, "And you, my once friend…are just another obstacle to remove. I will gladly bear any curse to prove my might, my power, my existence upon this world!" she snarled.

Softly, Louise then added.

"Good bye, Henrietta. Your sacrifice shall strengthen my resolve..."

Wales' eyes widened as the implication of the girl's words sunk in.

"NO!" but he didn't move towards the princess. No, he moved towards his Griffon to _leave_.

"_**DEATH COIL!**_"

The sickening bolt of green slammed into Henrietta's chest, as the pale rosy skin of the princess turned deathly pale. Her eyes wide, the purple haired woman fell backwards, landing with a soft thud on the ground. Louise kicked the sides of her steed, screaming as she charged ahead. Wardes' griffon screeched as the tip of the sword wounded its flank, but didn't prevent him from taking off and leaving.

Louise coldly watched the corpse of the princess on the ground, and then pointed at her with her blade.

"I am not weak," Louise whispered. "I am not weak."

"I will not cry," the girl added. "Henrietta was a heretic…I will not cry," her voice cracked. "The Lich King orders…Ner'zhul commands…the Founder's faith is right…I am good, I am good. I know that I am good."

She shuddered.

"Rule of steel, Louise, rule of steel," her frame trembled slightly. "No. Tears."

She clenched her sword then, hissing out the blade's name as she watched the body of Henrietta lay down on the ground.

"Your name," she looked at her blade, "Is…"

_**Steelmourne.**_

Louise's eyes widened in shock as the blade shone a pale blue light, its form changing beneath her very gaze into a bigger one, runes etched upon the surface shining brightly. "W-What?"

_**Just as the blade rends flesh, so must power scar the spirit.**_

"Y-You talk?"

_**I whisper. You obey. Well done, my fledgling Death Knight. Well done.**_

"You're not the blade…"

_**All that I am: anger, cruelty, vengeance - I bestow upon you, my chosen knight. I have granted you immortality so that you may herald in a new, dark age for the Scourge.**_

Louise's frame trembled even more than before.

_**You will become my force of retribution. Where you tread, doom will follow. Go now and claim your destiny, death knight.**_

"You're…" her voice lowered to a mere whisper. "The Lich King."

_**Listen well, death knight, for I give to you the words that will start a war. My final judgment has been passed: Death. To. All. None shall stand so boldly against the might of the Scourge without reprisal!**_

She closed her eyes, but even then, she couldn't help but snap her gaze open towards the academy.

A light purple barrier surrounded the academy, as around her the ghouls howled and snarled.

She descended from her horse then, and kneeled letting the tip of the blade plunge deeply in the ground…and the ground _rotted._

A massive wave of blight formed, destroying the grass blades as it devoured the life of the land itself and ploughed forward against the barrier, the walls and the entire academy. The walls themselves looked greyer, as the barrier flickered for a moment.

"Upon the blighted ground we march," Louise murmured, her breath exhaling clouds of vapour. She looked at her Ghouls, powered by her Unholy Aura. She looked at the corpse of Henrietta, laid there on the ground of the blight.

It was so pale…

Why not bring her back?

Why not…bring her back as a fellow believer of the Founder's Faith?

She grabbed the lithe body of the Princess, and then flung it on her horse as she climbed up next. "Surround the academy and patrol its gates," she said crisply. "When they let the barrier down to attack…destroy the gates."

The Ghouls snarled their understanding.

She pushed her steed to a gallop, as the Altar of Darkness of her main camp called to her.

"Louis?" she said. "Can you bring back anyone with the Altar of Darkness?"

"Only heroes of the Scourge, my master," Louis replied. "Have you died?"

"No!" Louise exclaimed. "Listen…I think I talked with the Lich King for a while through my sword and…"

"You did? That is a great honour, my master!"

"Yes," if it weren't for the amount of expectations the Lich King had…and she had an inkling that failing him would be completely different than failing mother. "But anyway, can you bring back someone that isn't of the Scourge?"

"Uhm…master, why ask me? Your powers should be enough. I remember the Lich King resurrecting Sylvanas Windrunner as a Banshee."

"Still, she could become a Death Knight with the Altar, right?"

"Master, granting a physical body to an enemy so soon is…unwise. Keeping them dependant on your powers is the best course of action."

"Can you do it, Louis?" she asked again scathingly.

"Yes, master…but I am currently elsewhere."

"Uh? Where did you go?" now Louise was perplexed.

"Tarbes, my master…more resources will be needed to increase our armies…and the village was near, as a Bonus Objective I found it interesting to pursue."

Louise ground her teeth. "Return at once."

"Master? Usually a bonus objective yields…"

"I gave you an order, Louis! Return. At. Once!"

"I understand, master," Louis remarked.

Louise grumbled to herself then.

Stupid familiar…going around risking his life elsewhere: what was she going to do if he died? Summon another bland and tasteless Acolyte?

And because of some sort of twisted reason…she actually thought of him as a friend.

Really, her head had probably lost some screws somewhere.

It had to be the heretics: too many of them corrupted her mind.

**Author's notes**

**Evil isn't good. But Evil is Good for Evil itself.**

**Louise has a bit of a focus problem. **

**I take elements from where I find them interesting. The centre of the story is mostly Louise, rather than 'Louis'. **

**The Academy is like Dalaran.**

**The Capital won't see what is coming.**

**Tarbes…ah, saved by the scruff of the neck.**


	8. The Burning Grasp of Frost

An Acolyte of Zero

Chapter Eight

_Scourge Main Base_

"Master," Louis bowed deeply as Louise strode in with the corpse of Henrietta on held tightly. She descended swiftly from the horse, grasping at the body and bringing it towards her familiar. She didn't know if it was her enhanced strength or the lithe princess, but the feat was carried on with relative ease.

She dropped her on the Altar of Darkness, watching then as Louis began to…

"Louis!" Louise sputtered, "What are you doing!?"

"The body needs to be desecrated with a special poisonous mixture, my master."

"So you're undressing her because of that?" she looked sideways slightly.

"Yes," Louis nodded. Louise bit her lips and then mumbled something unintelligible, before turning on her heels and climbing back on her skeletal steed. "Tell me when you're done."

"Would you like to guide the troops to Tarbes in the meantime, my master?" the Acolyte asked.

"I suppose I will," Louise muttered. Kicking the horse's side, she strode off to stand near the head of the small company of Crypt Fiends.

There were ten of them in numbers, and as they watched her with their multitude of eyes she felt strangely placed under test.

"For Nerub," the 'leader' of the Crypt Fiends said coldly.

"For Ner'zhul," she remarked dryly. "Let us be on our way then," she gave one last hesitant look to where Louis was doing his ritual, and then headed off.

_Capital_

"What the hell are those things!?" Agnes muttered ashen faced, as she looked at the towering structures that now stood surrounding the capital. "How…how many are there?"

"I don't know but…" Mordeau lowered a hand to the cobblestone, pulling a rock free and staring beneath it. "The very ground is rotting, Agnes…" he whispered.

The Acolyte was having a good day. They could have all the numbers in the world, but he just had to skirt around the capital's walls, place a Necropolis a bit on the far end, and then safely retreat. He had repeated this —apparently the humans inside had the belief that the Necropolis couldn't be attacked for some reason or another— for enough times.

Sure, he could have summoned eight ghouls by the time he was done, but as it was, he preferred this system better.

He really was smart when he placed his brain into action. Now, if only he had a plague cauldron or something like that, he'd be even happier.

The capital had lifted the drawbridge after the assault, and was now taking in the situation just as he was. It would be for naught because he merely needed to give an order to the Crypt Fiends burrowed close to the gate, and they'd open it with ease. Doing that would probably see them killed by the defending forces, but once he had an army worthy of notice, it would be a meaningless trouble.

"I require more resources," he intoned sending the message to Louis.

He felt a tingle, and then understood he had received what the main base could spare. The Crypts began to moan and release green fog, as the Ghouls appeared.

That was when the gates came down, and a horde of humans dashed out.

His eyes widened.

Five hundred troops charged in a disorderly fashion out of the main gate, screaming and yelling, as they seemed to be of the impression he was the most important individual to kill.

"That's the Necromancer!" Mordeau screamed as he charged at the tip of the assault platoon —all the brave souls he had mustered in a short time, and armoured with what the local garrison had. "CHARGE!"

"TRISTAN—"

But the screams died as the moans of the Ziggurats began.

The Spirit Towers slammed rays of condensed death and necromantic energies against the armoured advancing units, literally knocking them off their feet as they fell limp backwards, making the charging guards behind them tumble and fall, as the others scattered to avoid the same.

Mordeau was running together with three other men of the guard, the sickening soil squishing beneath his plated boots as he watched one of his long-time friends die, blasted off by a chunk of frost.

"Jacques!"

"Captain!" another screamed as a Ghoul jumped to slash at his neck. He raised his shield just in time, before delivering a massive blow with his war hammer.

Let it never be that Captain Mordeau did not learn.

The Acolyte clicked his tongue against his teeth in displeasure as he watched the Paladin smash to the ground a ghoul. There was something extremely wrong with the health bars of the units —he couldn't see them to begin with— but this simply meant that the hundreds of men pouring out were nothing more than honourable meat bags to be killed.

None of them even tried to attack the Spirit towers, passing through them disregarding their losses.

"Paladins," he muttered. "Stupid lot."

Then an arrow landed with a 'thud' a few meters away from him. Some archers had stopped and were firing upon him, uncaring of the corpses piling up near them.

If only he had a Necromancer or two…ah the masses of skeletons.

Still, he had to make do with what he had.

A soldier finally neared him, wielding a flail and spinning it wildly.

"FOR TRISTANIA, DIE HEATHEN!"

The next, the Halls of the Dead fired upon him, reducing his entire torso to mush and scattering his limbs around the ground. The Acolyte placed a hand to his face, removing the bits and pieces of guts from him as he grumbled.

"These were my best robes!"

And his only ones.

Then a sword stuck through his guts from the side. He gasped as he felt blood fill his lungs. His gaze went to the man who had done the deed, and he smiled even as the tip of a lance pierced him in the shoulder. As the men, armoured or not, with lances, swords, flails or not reached him and killed him through a mob…

He laughed.

Death was the sweetest pleasure for those who served the Lich King after all…

For it was never over.

A Crypt hummed and summoned him back the next instant, gripping his soul and smashing it inside the next Ghoul, as another Acolyte took his place summoned on the other side of the Capital.

The Scourge never wasted _anything_.

The newly summoned Acolyte looked at the back gates of the Capital with a nod of understanding. He brought up his right hand…and the Crypt Fiends _attacked_.

Mordeau fell down on one knee as he stumbled down the hill, avoiding in doing so a white ray of death that turned to ashes the villager near him.

Whatever sorcery it was, it required mages and wizards to fight off. He growled as he broke into another charge, trying to get out of the range of the necromantic monstrosities that were hot on the heels of the survivors.

They couldn't remain near the crypts —they didn't have cannons after all— and they couldn't leave the necromancer to act unpunished.

With this, they could wait for reinforcements from the fleet coming in from La Gramont, the only flying port of Tristania, which held the flying navy…under the Admiralty of the La Gramont family.

The problem was…

He heard the rasping sound of the ghoul coming for his back, as he twisted the warhammer with both hands and slammed the foul creature on the ground. "Stay dead!" he yelled.

The problem was…

Food.

Tristain, as a country, had enough food to sustain itself. Tristania, as a city, was devoted to commerce. Their storehouses weren't big, and the granaries themselves were out of reach without a good help from the cavalry.

Of course, the cavalry was made of lesser nobles who had no trouble adopting the 'wait and see' strategy. He knew the rules of engagement always had the militia and the guard go first, and then followed by the cavalry and finally the aristocracy once the battle was over.

He didn't have to like it, but that was how war was fought.

That thought lasted until he reached the gates of the city hard on breath. The moment he saw one of those construction's crystals floating harmlessly in a corner of the city…within the circle of walls…he turned to his men.

"Me—"

None answered him.

His captain's mantle flapped silently in the light breeze. Only corpses stood strewed on the hill, from the gate to the Necromancer and back. Only corpses, with their faces down against the ground or up towards the sky, their eyes still open, their face still morphed in shock.

"Oh Founder…" he whispered. "Oh Founder…guide me."

"Mordeau!" the familiar voice of the captain of the Queen's guard reached his ears, making him look at the woman atop a horse. She was holding another by the reins. "Quick! Mount!

He obeyed before asking the reason, and the moment he stood atop the steed a gun pressed in his hand. "It's already primed. Just push the trigger when you want to fire at someone."

"Agnes?" he asked, befuddled.

"They're in the city. The back gate…it was destroyed. There are things there that are stopping the men from barricading it, and as you saw…those crystals attack whoever's out in the open." She exhaled. "There is more than one necromancer."

"God almighty," Mordeau murmured. "Agnes…"

"The nobles are acting now, but…" she bit her lips. "They don't have the time to pronounce incantations. The moment they try the beasts just ignore everyone else. It's like they don't feel pain or don't care for their lives!"

"What of the Queen?"

"She refused to remain in the palace or to escape. She's in the Church, praying."

"The Church!?" his face paled. "But—"

"Yes," Agnes' grimace told a long deal. "It's exactly next to that blasphemous tower."

Captain Mordeau looked down at the back of the head of his horse, which neighed slightly. He clenched his hands firmly around the warhammer, before giving a single and curt nod to Agnes.

"Let's show these Heathens not to underestimate us!"

"Glad to have a fellow in this madness," Agnes smirked. They both kicked their horses to a frantic gallop, as the streets empty of people made it easy to speed up without risk. "We need to bring the Queen out of the city. The Albion royalty has troubles with the Reconquista, or we would have already departed…you can guide a flying dragon, right?"

"Me?" he choked on that. "No, I can't."

"Now you can," Agnes said crisply. "Listen clearly, Mordeau. I don't know what's going on, I don't know what creatures these are or what sick magic is used to turn the rot the earth and bring forth these abominations but…but I know a lost battle when I see one. The nobles in the city aren't fighters. They're court jesters at most."

"Careful where you're heading with those words, Agnes," Mordeau replied. "True as they might be, don't let someone else hear them."

"The Princess should be safe at the Academy, but for how long the city watch can last fighting quarter per quarter…I don't know."

Mordeau swallowed.

"You are not just suggesting we…"

"I'm not," Agnes whispered. "But there is a difference between leaving to fight another day and dying without reason."

"I'm sorry Agnes," Mordeau remarked. "But I can't mount a flying dragon even to save my life."

"If you wait for the ships to come around and take the survivors…it will be in two days!"

"Then so be it," Mordeau winked at her, smiling. "My duty is to the people, Agnes." The woman frowned, but said nothing as she averted her gaze from him and returned to look ahead.

"We're nearing their tower and—"

A bang resounded as a scream echoed from one of the spider-like creatures that had shot out an alley. The horses shrieked, bringing their bodies upwards as they neighed as high as they could.

"STEADY NOW!" Mordeau barked at his horse, patting the side of its neck as he kicked its flanks. Agnes did the same, unclasping the pouch of gunpowder from her side.

"Listen Mordeau: the rest of the musket corps is safely entrenched in the royal palace. We brought inside as many survivors as we could, and that's where the relief will come."

"Understood," the man grimaced, as he looked towards the Ziggurat coming closer and closer by the second. "What demon could create such a thing?"

"It is not elven at least," Agnes pushed the horse to the left, as she avoided a spider emerging from the ground. Mordeau's warhammer made an arc, as it slammed straight in the face of the Crypt Fiend, smashing its eyes and sending it on the ground to screech and flail.

"You said they didn't feel pain!"

"He's not screeching out of pain, Mordeau!"

He pushed her away from her horse just in time, as five more spiders emerged from the very ground to spit at their horses. Only their hooves remained —half-melted— after the ambush finished. Mordeau rolled across the ground as he fell to the side, twisting his body as he gripped on his warhammer.

They surrounded him, but while three spiders went for him, two went for Agnes on the other side of the street.

He exhaled and smiled.

"_**FOR TRISTAIN!**_"

_Tarbes_

The village was silent. The small community was fast asleep after a tired day of work in the camps and in the forest, the candles out. The normal noises of the countryside interrupted the silence, mixed with the howling of a faraway wolf and the barking of dogs.

The windows suddenly rattled as the sound of a horse's gallop became louder and louder. An old farmer —the one assigned to look after the village at night, in case some noble or wanderer passed through— awoke with a startled gasp.

An armoured knight with a shining pale blue sword stood in front of him. The knight had a long furred mantle that seemed to have a light sheen of icy light, reflected from the moon. His clasp on the reins was tight, and as he spoke, the farmer realized his mistake.

The voice was cold and harsh, but clearly feminine.

"Is this Tarbes?" she asked lightly.

"Y-Yes m'lady," he replied, standing up from his rickety chair and making a light bow. Nobles liked people bowing to them. "It is…it's late, but if you like a place to rest my house is a bit poor but has a clean bed for guests just…"

"Good."

He didn't even realize the blade had moved, or that his head was no longer attached to his body.

It just rolled off with a sickening thud, and the next moment…the next moment he stood up once more.

"Steelmourne works," Louise grumbled clasping on to her blade. "Very well," she twisted her blade in the air, signalling her troops. "_**FOR THE GLORY OF THE SCOURGE! ATTACK!**_"

The first farmer to head outside with a hoe to look at the source of the noise found itself meeting his end half-melted by acidic spit. Fangs tore the second apart as the door of his house opened with a sickening crash. The third managed to grip a torch and keep away one nasty giant spider, but when a stinger pierced him from behind he gurgled and died between spasms.

Louise watched, the runes floating around her granting speed to her Crypt Fiends, to her army of monsters. By that time, Louis should have been done with the Princess.

"Louis?"

"Yes, master?"

"The Princess?"

"It was completed, master."

"It? She was resurrected, I hope." She bit her lip, hoping she was just being paranoid.

"Of course master, she was brought back to Undeath."

"I see…as what?"

"Well, master, I personally believed a Crypt Lord would be useful in leading an attack, but then I realized you would probably be affronted —and I didn't know if a Crypt Lady held the same magic as a Crypt Lord— so I decided to transform her into a Lich."

"A Lich? Like, the Lich King?"

"No, nothing of the sort… A Lich is our main spellcaster, master. She can make ice Nova form from enemies' bodies, create frost armours to enhance our troops, bring forth Death and Decay and is generally an excellent way to get past pesky barriers that impede in our mission."

Somehow, she had an inkling Louis disliked having to contend with barriers.

"Indeed master, you have no idea how difficult it was to destroy Dalaran the first time because of the barrier erected."

Right, she had to stop sending her thoughts towards him.

"I live but to serve you, master. Your thoughts will never annoy me."

Oh, now that was sweet.

"Have I displeased you, master?"

"Wh-What! No! Never mind!" she shook her head, trying to remove the thoughts. "Stupid familiar, sweet talking to me in that way," she grumbled. "Henrietta?" she called then hesitantly, "Are you there?"

Somehow, the answer she received chilled her to her very bones.

"I am sworn to Ner'zhul," the answer came through a hauntingly cold voice. "Thy bidding?"

"Henrietta?"

"Yours to command."

"Henr…Henrietta?"

"Direct me!"

Louise clasped on her reins tightly. The Steelmourne whispered darkly words that made no sense to her, as her head hung low while chewing on her lips.

"Conquer the Academy, Henrietta," Louise finally whispered with a cracked voice.

"By your words!"

Now she understood, now, truly, she understood.

What she was doing…was _unforgivable_.

_Academy_

Guiche de Gramont was many things. He was a woman lover, a stealer of hearts, and no longer a virgin as of the day before…twice.

Of course he also was trying his best to hide because apparently girl talk, trapped as they were in the academy, seemed to be around who did whom in the event of the upcoming apocalypse. The Princess had died, and suddenly everyone believed Tristain was doomed to fall by the hand of Louise.

Louise, the Zero.

Malicorne was standing guard near a corner of the Academy. While the teachers had told them that there was nothing to fear for as long as the barrier held, the inevitable question was when the capital would send reinforcements.

Since those despicable creatures had been circling the Academy…they had increased in number steadily, a trickle at a time. The very ground beneath their feet was dark and felt funny —a few of the staff had even become sick. Count Wardes did his best to train them, and already he knew he was much stronger than before.

He had no way to prove it, but he somewhat felt he could take on Louise blindfolded, and win.

That thought lasted until he reached Malicorne's patrol area.

Then, he felt a chill in the air that didn't bode well at all. The barrier prevented things both from coming in and from going out, as well as magic. However, it didn't stop someone from morphing the ground on the other side, and if someone hovered extremely close to it, it was possible to let the spell depart from the tip of the wand already inside.

Malicorne was frowning, looking out of the barrier at the top of the tower; he thought he had seen a strange figure floating around the outskirts. Then again, it was impossible for the princess herself to be outside…unless maybe it was a ghost?

He narrowed his eyes and moved his head slightly out of the window. Behind him, the water mage Custard was holding his corner of the barrier with sweat falling down his face. Malicorne had to remain quiet as he looked, but then he saw it again.

A flash of white, pale skin…a bountiful pair of breasts that looked extremely enticing in their milky white beauty. His eyes widened beyond disbelief as he realized the figure was gently floating with the royal white dress in tatters, just beyond the barrier.

It was…

It was the princess, wasn't it?

She had one of those circular royal thingies, the ones that resembled the plumes of a peacock, floating behind her head.

Then her eyes met with his, and in that single instant, Malicorne understood.

He screamed.

Custard opened his eyes in worry, his concentration lapsing shortly, but not enough to destroy the barrier. When Malicorne's entire frame burst into an icy Frost Nova however, he brought his hands up to guard. In that instant…

The barrier came less.

The Ghouls charged through the gates.

Henrietta laughed from atop her hill, frost forming all around her as she held one smooth silky hand forward, ordering the charge.

"_**EMBRACE THE END!"**_

**Author's notes**

**Embrace Cliff Hanger.**


	9. The Price of Failure

An Acolyte of Zero

Chapter Nine

Tarbes died in the night, drowned in blood and screams. The same principle applied to the mansion of Count Mott was applied to the biggest building of the village —a strange metallic warehouse, filled with some kind of long cross-shaped object.

The nearby family had actually hidden inside the warehouse, crying and praying for the 'Dragon' to awaken.

If the thing was supposed to do something, to be some sort of magical artefact, then it clearly didn't activate with the cries and the tears of children…or with their blood splattered on his belly.

Louise watched the zombies slowly stumble on their feet, their gaze vacant and their mouth open. Steelmourne was a Runeblade, and as all blades forged through the will of Ner'zhul, it stole _souls_. The corpses twitched and moved, obeying _her will_. They were slow, but unyielding. She spun her sword in the air, before giving a short order.

"To Tristania! We shall conquer the capital before the day breaks!"

To her scream of rage, the answer that came back was in the form of high-pitched screeches and moans. She ignored the fleeting feeling of having done wrong. Even as a zombified child stumbled on the ground and then began to walk on four legs, his bones starting to protrude…even as a pale skinned woman with her entrails out of her body wobbled forth…

Even then, she tried her hardest to ignore it.

Because, although slowed down considerably, her heart still had a beat.

_Tristain Academy_

"_**EMBRACE THE COLD!**_" the Frost Nova slammed into the body of the first brave student that tried to leave the academy's central tower by the main doors.

The brave ones that were close behind him died immediately, the frost uncaring of their skills or wits. The cold embraced all. It embraced the living and the dead, making one weak and the other uncaring. The cold winds of Northrend bellowed in her stomach for release, as her mouth opened to release a steady stream of condensed ice.

Her magic was there, strengthening with its triangle power her already considerable Lich ones.

She was faithful to Ner'zhul…to the Lich King, for the undeath was all she had dreamed of, all she had aspired to be…and all she had become.

"Is that princess Henrietta!? Oh Founder!" a girl screamed, and because it annoyed her, Henrietta slammed a bolt of frost through her chest, letting blood spray out as _crimson snowflakes_.

"All must bow beneath the Scourge!" she screamed, half crazed as she watched the Ghoul charge forward snarling. A wave of fire washed over them the moment they tried to enter the main hall, as a powerful gust of air and rock debris scattered their corpses away.

Headmaster Osmond and Professor Colbert walked outside, both wielding staves. Their looks were grime and stern, and as they entered the courtyard where the Princess stood, Henrietta hissed back.

"You owe fealty to me!" she screeched. "Your lives…are mine."

"No, my dear," Osmond replied kindly, his voice strained. "I can sense your spirit suffer beneath this dangerous grasp, but fear not," he added. "Your suffering will end soon."

"My life is sworn to the Lich King," Henrietta replied in a low hiss. "Your lives are sworn to me! Those who kneel hereby shall survive the night! Those of you who will renew their allegiance to the Lich King will see a bright new dawn beneath the banner of the Scourge! Those who refuse however…they shall be destroyed."

"What makes you think anyone would follow you, demon? You may wield the Princess' skin, but you are not her!" Colbert exclaimed as a massive jet of flames erupted from his staff, soaring in the air, as it turned blue from the heat.

A torrent of water materialized from Henrietta's palms, becoming azure as it sailed in the air to crash against the flames, emitting a wide berth of steam.

The Headmaster plunged his staff on the ground, bellowing a strong yell.

"Be gone! May you find peace in the embrace of the Founder!"

Jarred rocks ground out from the floor, slamming into Henrietta's chest that held no blood within. The princess gasped, gurgling as she tried to talk, if not for a spear of rock jabbed in her throat.

She grasped at it with her milky hands; pale and cadaveric as they were she still gripped tightly on the spear and pulled it out.

"YOU!" then the flame snake continued its path unstopped, burning Henrietta. In a show of light, her soul departed with a sickening scream as the ghouls around her scattered back, leaving through the gate in a disorderly fashion. They didn't make it far however, as Wardes burst forth with his wand shooting lightning from its tip.

Colbert exhaled; sweat fell down his brow, as he turned to the Headmaster. "Headmaster?"

"I am afraid the barrier is no longer a valid defence, if it can be breached this easily," Osmond remarked. "We must make haste to reach for the capital…have the carriages prepared, Colbert."

The Flame Snake nodded grimly, and then headed off.

"To think the Princess…" Wardes' words died in his mouth. "How did the barrier falter?"

"M-Malicorne is dead!" the exclamation caught the attention of everyone; Guiche trembled while taking careful steps forward. "The Water tower…it's encased in ice," he whispered then. "I…I saw it appear from nowhere and…"

"Indeed," Osmond's face was a grimace. "The Princess was a powerful water mage, and whatever sordid powers brought her back to become that…they must have changed her radically."

"Then, what of Louise?" Wardes asked. "If the Princess became that…what of her?"

"I fear Mademoiselle de la Vallière is beyond redemption at this point," Osmond whispered. "Further, if her words are true, then we must query whether the sacred text spoke of this…Scourge, before."

"A message to Romalia then?"

"Out of the question!" the Cardinal chose that moment to appear, his robes billowing behind him. "If the Pope knew of this, he'd order a holy crusade on our heads! We must solve this problem internally, before the news lapse outside our borders!"

Osmond gave one hard look at Cardinal Mazarin, and then slowly brought a hand to his beard. "When the Queen knows of the death of her only daughter, Cardinal…what do you think will happen?"

"She mustn't know," the Cardinal retorted hotly. "She can't be informed either!"

"So what do you hope for, Cardinal? What if another of those monstrosities arrives? What if a bigger army comes? Tristain can't face such a threat alone…"

Wardes remained quiet, but he did click his tongue to attract his griffon closer to him. The beast heard him even though he was far away, in the stables.

It arrived with a screech, flapping its powerful wings. "Well," the Captain of the Griffon Guards began. "My duty is to protect the royalty. I failed with the Princess…but I must attend to the Queen, and Cardinal…she will know, whether you think it is best or not. I swore fealty to her, after all."

With those words, the Griffon Knight took to the skies.

"We have to empty the vault," Osmond said then. "Professor Cambert? Take Miss Longueville and proceed to carry all the important and dangerous artefacts to a carriage."

Cambert, the lightning professor of the higher years, nodded stiffly. His pale blue hair was standing upwards, as if a thin veil of electricity currently surrounded him.

"Course, course…I'll do it soon!" he nodded vivaciously, before breaking into a quick run.

Osmond sighed. There was much to do, but one thing was clear in his mind: he would protect Tristain's future generations of nobles no matter the cost.

_Tristania_

The three Crypt Fiends neared all at the same time, their bulky masses uncaringly scratching against one another as they tried to bring their fangs to his flesh first. Mordeau was not in the habit of enjoying being the interest of gigantic spiders, and so fired a bullet in the mix of tangled undead limbs towards the closest of them.

He then slammed his shield against the hopefully 'dead' spider, using him as a shield of flesh while he escaped from the flanking attempt. The killed Crypt Fiend was riddled with acidic holes soon enough, as Mordeau jumped at the right time beyond it to let his warhammer come down crashing against the other spider's head.

The creature made a sickening sound like that of a squashed melon, as it fell on the ground. Mordeau brought his shield up, as a blob of green came for his face.

The sensation of the acid quickly devouring the steel spurred him into action, unbuckling the straps of the shield and dropping it. Wielding the warhammer with both hands, he charged ahead screaming.

Two clear gunshots echoed behind him, the product of a twin discharge of lead from Agnes —who now had two fuming pistols.

"I'm recharging!" she exclaimed, getting down on one knee as he closed the distance between them. Mordeau's warhammer swung against a Ghoul who had appeared from a corner, and smashes its ribs to paste as it then delivered a subsequent blow to the monster's head.

He heard the crackling sound of a musket going off, as a tall and blue haired musketeer appeared from a nearby window holding her own firearm.

"Captain!"

"Am I glad to see you, Danzika!" Agnes yelled back, as she finished priming her guns. "Let's go Mordeau, Danzika, can you reach us at the Church!?"

"Will do Captain!"

They broke into a mad run then, dashing along the cobblestone street towards the Church. The armour of Mordeau clanked, and its weight slowed him down, but he didn't stop. Sweat trickled down his brows and chin, his breathing grew ragged, but he wasn't about to let the Captain of the Musketeer guard slow down to wait for him.

They would be needed, both of them, to save the Queen.

Queen Marianne kneeled in front of the altar of the Founder's Holy Church. She prayed with her hands clasped together, her eyes shut close. She prayed for the safety of her people and of her daughter. She prayed for the Founder's Wrath to cease, for what else could this blight upon her land be, if not a sign of displeasure from God?

She knew she had been a weak Queen, leaving the Cardinal to act and guide along Henrietta's future rule.

Yet the death of Henry had caught her wholly unprepared, and she had grieved far longer than needed. Now, the country was crying out for salvation. The horrors were at the very doors of the city and—

A loud crash echoed through the church, making her turn to stare in wide horror as a giant six-legged spider walked inside.

"For Nerub," the spider hissed out with a throaty voice. "For the Scourge."

"Be gone!" she yelled back at the creature, pointing her wand at him. "Fool creature of hell! Demon conjured by heathens! This is holy ground! You cannot trespass in here!"

"Your Kingdom shall fall," the Nerubian spoke darkly, "Like ours did. None shall stand in front of the Scourge…so _FALL BEFORE THE SCOURGE_!"

A powerful jet of water shot out of her wand then, slamming the spider against the wall as it writhed with its legs twitching spasmodically.

Then the spider fell down, and began to open its fangs.

She produced another torrent of water, one that would have crushed a lesser man.

There was a sickening crack as the carapace of the spider broke, and yet it still wobbled back on its feet afterwards.

The wounds slowly closed.

"Upon the Blighted Ground we walk," it rasped. "What tangled web we weave…"

The Crypt Fiend jumped, fangs bared, and the Queen ran to the side of the altar. The spider crashed against the altar, tearing it into chunks of rock as its abdomen rose to release the stinger the creature possessed.

"Back! Back in the name of the Founder!" Marianne screamed as more water poured from her wand. She spun the wand then, in her heart asking forgiveness to the Founder, as the water became a tornado that lifted up in the air the monstrosity.

Another flick of the wand, and the same strength that pulled the spider up began to push it down.

It _crunched_ as it slammed against the ground, twitching and trying to free itself as the downpour of water upon his body stopped him from doing that.

It twitched one last time, as Marianne was just about to finish her strength.

Silence then descended in the Church.

"Founder…be praised," swiping her forehead, the Queen recollected herself and dusted off her dress.

"Marianne, you can do this," she said to herself. "Ignore the giant spider, and leave."

She groaned as she looked towards the door, and another spider peering inside with its eyes. "Why isn't Karin here? She'd know what to do!"

The spider then _talked_.

"Your Highness?" the voice came from its belly. "It's Agnes," the head of her captain of the guard emerged from beneath the —now clearly visible as a carcass— spider, soon followed by two other belonging to another musketeer and a man wearing the guard armour and the rank of Captain —judging by the full-plate he wore.

"Agnes, my dear!" Marianne exhaled in relief, "I thought myself in dangerous peril once more, why I thank you deeply."

"Y-Your Highness, there's no need!" Agnes exclaimed back. "It's my duty and honour!"

"Still! How are we going to leave, Agnes?"

"The corpse of the Fiend could—"

And in that moment, it began to rot. The action happened quickly, far faster than any could possibly understand. It simply was one moment, and then was no longer the next.

"How!? No!" Agnes screamed, trying to recover something from the now ash-mound that once was a Crypt Fiend.

"The ground might be the cause," Mordeau grimaced. "Everything it touches, rots."

"No, I don't think so," the musketeer woman —Danzika— said then. "They all disappear when killed after a short while."

"Foul and blasphemous magic," Mordeau spat out, "What else could this be!?"

"I hope for the safety of my people," Marianne whispered. "Is this…widespread?"

"Your Highness, last we heard all news went directly to Gaugin's ear. He is the highest ranked noble without you."

"I see," Marianne nodded. "Very well, we must leave through another mean and quickly."

"Maybe we can use the altar's top or a bench as a cover?" Danzika suggested.

"It would be impractical to attract attention like that," Agnes murmured. "Isn't there a secret passage or something, in the crypts? Maybe…yes! The sewers!"

Marianne grimaced. She knew that, eventually, she'd have to do something unpleasant as a Queen.

She didn't expect it to be going in the sewers of her own city.

_Louis_

He closed his eyes. He looked back at the crypts near him, at the main camp, and then he slowly acknowledged their silence.

He looked at his fellow acolytes, as the mine itself unsummoned.

"The resources are claimed, brother," an Acolyte remarked. "The mission is over."

"Another mission waits then," Louis commented. "There is a Necropolis to build in Tarbes, and the Blight is to spread through whatever mean available."

"We shall do as you command, brother," the Acolytes all said bowing their heads slightly.

"Louis?" the voice of his master called to him, and he answered back.

"Yes, master?"

"I feel tired all of a sudden."

"The mission was completed."

"Ah…I see. But I wanted to conquer Tristania next…"

"If you are feeling tired, my master, I suggest you rest. Maybe a Crypt Fiend can tie you to the saddle so you don't fall?"

"Yeah…yawn…I'll do that…"

Louis exhaled.

What did the completed mission unlock now?

Probably something to aid in the invasion of Tristania, but what precisely could it…

The Slaughterhouse felt summonable.

And if it was the Slaughterhouse, then it could only be one single object.

The Meat Wagon.

He gave the mental order to the Acolytes close to the capital, and received confirmation. Upon the capital of this country, soon, it would rain blood and corpses.

_**Acolyte.**_

The voice, cold and uncaring, froze him on the spot.

"My Lord?"

_**You owe me your fealty, your soul, your very being.**_

"Yes, my Lord, I bow and serve for the Lich King," he bowed profusely, even though there was no one near him any longer.

_**Then why is it, that I cannot command you?**_

He stilled.

"My…Lord?"

_**Carve your heart out.**_

His hand went to his dagger, as the runes lightly shone on the back of his right hand. He brought the tip close to his chest and in that instant…he hesitated.

A thought —randomly— reached through his brain to widen his eyes in realization.

"I…I cannot."

Those two words held a finality that he knew was not only by chance.

_**I will not tolerate treason in the Scourge, Acolyte.**_

"I live to serve, my Lord!"

_**Then you shall prove so.**_

"How, my Lord?"

_**You will know when the time is right.**_

Louis buckled, short on breath, with his knees falling on the Blighted ground. He gurgled and gasped for air as he retched from the effort of holding such a taxing conversation with the Lich King. He was trembling like a tree shaken by the wind, sweat copiously falling down his forehead.

The Lich King had ordered…

_And he had not obeyed_.

Something impossible had happened…something that wasn't supposed to.

Still, the Lich King had been merciful.

_Merciful_?

Wasn't Death supposed to be his purpose? Why was he…growing attached to his own flesh? Why was he…_afraid_ of dying?__

The face of Louise appeared in his mind for a moment, as the runes kept up their light shining. He shook his head, clearing his thoughts. He had no desires, no emotions. He lived for the Scourge. He was the Scourge. He was a part of a greater whole.

Undeath was his purpose, his finality, his only desire.

This…This could not be.

As he teleported back into the Halls of the Dead, he watched the map of the countries strewed across the table. A light black dotting covered their position, and spread from both Tarbes and the surrounding lands of Tristania and the Academy.

It didn't engulf the Capital however, nor did it grasp the Academy.

Had the Lich failed?

He gave an order to the Altar of Darkness, and watched from the window as it lit up. He exhaled. The Lich had been defeated.

He supposed he should have sent an Acolyte to prevent the wizards from leaving the place —with Spirit Towers and Necropolis.

It was too late by then —the mages had probably left already.

His master was asleep; he could hear her soft snoring through the link they shared. He tactfully decided to keep this information for himself at present: there was no need to disturb Louise's sleep.

_La Vallière Estate_

Karin the Heavy Wind clenched her right hand tightly against the message she had received.

Slowly, she stood up and dismissed the messenger. That…

_That stupid, stupid man_.

"Eleanor!" she barked, entering the library of her eldest daughter.

"Mother!" Eleanor exclaimed dropping the books she held in her hands in fright. "W-What can I do for you?"

"Eleanor, I will be leaving for the capital. I want you to rally the La Vallière vassals and warn them of war," Karin replied swiftly.

"M-Mother?"

"I have no time to waste," she added then curtly. "Your stupid father decided to play the hero once again, and the capital is under siege," she clenched her fists and strode forward, before bringing her hands down on Eleanor's shoulders and holding them tightly in a steel-like grip.

"Stay safe, my daughter, and look after Cattleya."

Then she turned and left.

She had an _imbecile_ to save after all.

**Author's notes**

**Anyone knows what the Duke of La Vallière name is?**


	10. The Cost of Defeat

An Acolyte of Zero

Chapter Ten

_Tristania_

A mass of Ghouls poured through the streets, screaming and screeching as they tore through the barricades hastily prepared. Lances pierced their skins, hammers broke their bones and yet they persevered. Crypt Fiends skittered across the alleyways, taking to the roofs and slamming acid spit upon the screaming defenders.

The barricade held, even as the defenders dwindled. The light of torches illuminated the streets, just as the fires that burned around the houses gave the guards a way to pierce the darkness —albeit many would have preferred to remain ignorant.

The metallic noise of those strange siege engines haunted their ears, as corpses fell from the skies and splattered against walls and buildings. They could see the buildings crumble, one after the other —some even catching on fire— as that particular 'march of doom' neared.

"COME ON!" Mordeau screamed from the top of his lungs, standing tall atop a wooden crate. His shield held high and his warhammer in the other hand. "FEAR NO EVIL! THE FOUNDER PROTECTS!"

He bashed the incoming head of a ghoul, slamming his warhammer in another trying to scale the wall. Wherever he looked, he saw but bones and teeth. A building collapsed a bit far from them, and his blood ran cold as the now familiar bone tendrils began to rise towards the sky.

"MAGES! WHERE ARE THE MAGES!?"

"Here!" a musketeer remarked standing next to a lean and scared witless wizard. The man was scared senseless, and began to babble even as the musketeer pushed him forward.

"W-What?! No! I'm not…please I can't go out there!"

"Where are the others!?" Mordeau snarled, as he jumped down from the barricade leaving the place to spear wielding guards.

"They drew lots," the musketeer replied. "One at the time, they say, is more than sufficient if the _peons_ do their work."

"Fine," Mordeau looked towards the wizard, and then to his own troops. "Men! We need volunteers for another push!"

Noticeably, none dared to answer back to him. "Men! If no one offers himself, then those things will overrun us eventually! That thing needs to be taken down and fast, before it completes its summoning!"

"It's useless!" a citizen wielding a rickety lance and with a hastily donned leather cuirass and helmet exclaimed. "They just keep on coming! Where are _our_ reinforcements!? Why can't we get a mage or two to hold the line for fu—"

A wall burst apart behind him, as a Crypt Fiend emerged and slammed down with its fangs on the man's head, crunching it.

The sickening sound lasted only for one second —like the screams of the guard— but when it was over five spears and one bullet slammed into the creature that had flanked them.

The building cracked as it began to break, a corpse slamming into the sides of the construction and tearing good chunks away from its main walls.

"RETREAT!" Mordeau snarled watching the crumbling building start to drop pieces on the barricade. "AND DO SOMETHING!" he yelled to the mage, who scared senseless decided to _faint_.

Mordeau cursed out loudly as he watched the barrier overrun. He slammed his warhammer on the closest Ghoul, making small jumps back as he made sure to give some time to the musketeer —probably charged with protecting the noble in question— to carry the fainted ponce out of harm's way.

The rest of the scared senseless guards and recruits simply broke into a run, leaving them behind. He couldn't fault them: his own heart was screaming to him to leave, to run away…and yet he couldn't, because his duty was to protect the people of Tristania.

It was then, that he saw _her_.

Pink locks, riding a ferocious warhorse that neighed loudly, the woman in question slammed through the incoming hordes wielding a wand. She looked like one of those _Valkyries_ the Germans were so proud of, one of the most elite soldiers Germania had in its armies. As a resounding explosion tore apart the enemies in front of her, she stopped in front of him having jumped past the remains of the barricade with ease.

"I am Louise Françoise le Blanc de la Vallière! I have come to lend aid!"

Mordeau's eyes widened in surprise, before a bellowing roar escaped his throat, "May the Founder be blessed! Young Miss, you bring hope in the heart of an old warrior! Your father is leading our defences from the palace, I'm sure he'll be glad to see you."

The woman winced, her face morphing in a light scowl before she schooled her features. "Let's get out of here for the moment, monsieur! We'll talk about hope later," she replied holding her wand at hand.

Thankfully, that was when the undead decided to retreat.

"Where is the Queen?" Louise asked, following the man through the streets. "I have an urgent message for her."

"I'm afraid, mademoiselle, that she left for the safe domain of one of her vassals," Mordeau replied. "I think your father, who remained behind might know something, but we weren't told for safety reason."

Louise remained quiet. The orb of illusion was doing its job. With the Academy trapped beneath the barrier, with the common rabble not being told of her strength —probably a sensible approach— she just had to make sure the nobility that knew she was a traitor didn't give up her game before she found out the location of Her Highness.

The Queen needed to fall. Her dead, power would move towards the La Vallière line, and with her Void powers, it would be easy to stake the rightful claim to the throne.

There was no need to make more losses than necess—

Her heart ached as she felt Steelmourne whisper harshly.

_**There can only be the Scourge.**_

A blanket fell over her head, as she began to grasp even tighter on the reins. _**All must bow to the One. True. King.**_

"Gah," Louise gasped, attracting the attention of the female musketeer, who was carrying a noble that she did not recognize —probably a lower vassal of sorts.

"Are you alright, m'lady?" she asked.

"S-Soon I will," Louise groaned as she clenched the handle of Steelmourne. "J-Just need to…"

_No_.

Her hand left the handle of the blade. She was a faithful servant of the Founder. _She_ would be Queen.

"Master?" Louis voice reached her then, "The attack on the Academy has failed. The Lich was destroyed and the troops scattered."

She snarled then, rage taking over her frame as Steelmourne soared the air and then landed with a sickening crack, splitting in half the head of the musketeer.

"FOR THE SCOURGE!"

Mordeau's hope died the moment he saw the steel of the giant sword come for his neck. His instinct screamed to him to bring up his shield, and he did so just in time to avoid a devastating blow, which still pushed him back a great length.

She had such a small body…and yet such great strength of arms? It was preposterous to believe, but her speed and strength were the real deal. He gasped as he saw the giant spiders appear from the shadows —had they trailed him?

It had been a trap, but for what purpose show her hand now?

The Noble…was it a Necromancer like the other robed ones?

The steed was skeletal and neighed with the shrieks that could only belong in nightmares as it charged forward. He slammed his warhammer in the back of it, hoping for it to fall but to no avail.

It was as if the thing really didn't feel any pain at all.

The noble turned the horse around, preparing for another charge.

In that moment, Mordeau pulled out the pistol and opened fire just as the corrupted noble charged ahead.

The bullet pierced through the neck of the horse, letting it fall on the ground destroyed as the woman rolled down from the steed with a startled cry. The next instant she spun, bringing up her sword in a crescent moon swipe just as he brought down his warhammer charging in for a finishing blow.

The two weapons met and ringed, as Mordeau watched the girl's face deform into one of pure fury.

"That was my steed!" she roared. "You'll pay for it!"

"Treacherous demon worshipper!" Mordeau yelled back, "Go back from where you came, Necromancer!"

"I AM THE FOUNDER'S CHOSEN!" Louise slammed her right feet forward, making Mordeau jump back to avoid it. His warhammer came crashing down on the cobblestone road as Louise sidestepped the blow, her own blade moving to pierce forward.

He slammed his shield to the side of the girl's blade, deflecting it before pushing his own weight —shoulder first— against her and making her tumble back.

Louise fell and rolled —armour and all— away from the incoming warhammer blow. Her once pink hair flew backwards as she got back on one knee and then pushed forward, her sword swung madly in uncontrolled swings.

"I. Am. Not. A. Necromancer!" she yelled making a hefty swing with every attack. "I AM A VOID MAGE!"

He parried another blow, moved his shield-bearing arm forward and then…then he slammed it home against the girl's face by the edge, slicing her face with the sharp side.

"GAH! My face! My faceee!"

The side blow of the warhammer sent Louise on the ground, her head ringing as she felt unmentionable pain.

"No," she growled… "No…"

"FOR TRISTANIA!" Mordeau yelled out as he charged forward, jumping while holding the handle of the hammer with both hands.

"Death Coil!" the bolt of green flew from her fingertips, smashing against Mordeau's chestplate.

The man staggered as he fell, the hammer blow finishing its trajectory against her shoulder. The noise of her metal shoulder pads creaking beneath the strength of the blow echoed with the pain that flared through her entire body.

Louise coughed blood, as she felt the dark energies within the very ground pour through her body slowly, closing her wounds. She gasped for air, moving to stand.

In that moment, _Mordeau wobbled to his feet_.

Her eyes widened in shock, her hands firmly gripping onto Steelmourne as if the sword were a crutch. "How?" she gasped. The attack of necromantic magic had always killed with a single shot, never with two or more.

Mordeau gagged as he felt his chest flare with pain. Tiny needles warmed by fire seemed to be piercing every pore of his skin, as he felt extremely tired and weak. Yet he still stood, and then he turned upon his enemy.

"The Founder…_protects_!"

He slammed his entire bulky frame against the girl, sending her to tumble on the ground one last time.

The last thing Louise saw, before darkness fell over her eyes, was Mordeau's shield and its sharpened edge. Then, she felt nothing but darkness covering her.

She…

_Had lost_.

_Louis_

"Master?" Louis said hesitantly, feeling the connection end. It lasted only the time it took for him to give an order to the Altar of Darkness, and the next moment he felt it rekindled once more.

Next to him, Henrietta stood in her usual unfaltering gaze, floating peacefully and holding her hands clasped together near her belly button. Her lower clothes still consisted of a white long skirt tattered and floating gently —every now and then showing a bit of pale blue fog beneath it, rather than a leg or something else.

Her upper clothes were instead two papyri of black silk, which hid but her breasts and travelled to cross each other in both the front and the back of her chest.

She held a coy smile on her face, even as cold gusts of arctic breeze left her mouth.

Louise reappeared from the Great Beyond wary and biting on her lips, before her eyes widened at the sight of Henrietta next to him.

"Henrietta! Thank the Scourge you're al—" she bit on her tongue, "Alright." She weakly finished.

"Master," Louis bowed. "The attack on the Academy failed. The mage are leaving upon carriages, heading towards Tristania as we speak. They are travelling slowly and through unused roads. One of their checkpoints will be Brussels, which we can reach in time to halt their passage."

"They don't know the capital has fallen?"

"No, master," Louis remarked. "We surrounded it wit—"

He stopped as a massive warning reached his head.

The Halls of the Dead near Tristania was under attack.

A massive tornado like one never before he had seen tore through its halls. A flying Griffon Knight was flinging thunderbolts against the structure's head while keeping his distances, together with…

What was that other creature to begin with!?

"Louis?" Louise said then, attracting his attention.

"Master," Louis whispered. "We lost the surprise element. They are tearing down the Halls of the Dead near the capital."

Louise clenched her fists. "We'll need more troops then. What of Tarbes?"

"We are acquiring steady resources from there, my master. The Zombies you conjured are ready to deploy at your command, as per your orders."

"Keep them in the reserve for now," Louise mumbled. "We'll use them later when we'll need their numbers."

Dejectedly, Louise walked towards the nearest chair and sat down, only for her weight and that of the armour to make it collapse. She fell down with a startled 'kyah!' and then laid there, her gaze upwards towards the ceiling of the Halls of the Dead.

"Henrietta?"

"Yes?" the Lich said crisply.

"Do you remember anything about your past life?"

"I live to serve the Scourge, master," Henrietta replied.

"I see…" Louise bitterly laughed. "No matter what I do, I'm still the Zero anyway. What was I thinking, trying to take over the country? It's all over, isn't it?"

"Master," Louis said then, firmly. "Nothing is over as long as a single Acolyte is still able to build a Necropolis and a Haunted Mine."

Louise said nothing.

"Master?"

"In the Academy…who's there, now?"

"No one, master. They left it in a hurry."

"So, their books are still there, right? The towers…they still hold stuff inside, right?"

"Yes, but one of the Nerubians told me they emptied out a vault before carrying it away."

"Right, the vault…"

Louise's breath stilled. "The vault with forbidden artefacts."

"Louis," Louise stood back up immediately, talking harshly. "I want you to reinforce the Academy. Conjure a base worthy of the Scourge in there —here, we are too out in the open."

"It will be done, master." Louis bowed deeply.

"Henrietta, you will safeguard Louis. If _anything_ happens to him, I will have your soul eaten by Steelmourne, are we clear!?"

Henrietta nodded then. "For the Scourge."

"I will head towards Brussels with an Acolyte and some Ghouls. They're faster than the Crypt Fiends anyway. I'll stop them from getting to the Capital, no matter the cost."

She looked at the map of the country. "This is not the time for doubt. We have suffered some great losses, but we will persevere. Divide and Conquer, Louis, Henrietta! Divide, and _conquer_! For the Scourge! For the Founder's Faith! _We will claim this country and usher forth a new era of faith_!"

A light green fog told her that both Louis and Henrietta had teleported out, thanks probably to the Halls of the Dead powers. She disappeared next, already settled on her skeletal steed that had reappeared together with her at the Altar.

Four Ghouls crawled forward from the corners of the main base —once assigned to lumbering operations— and an Acolyte appeared soon from the inside of a Ziggurat.

"Double time, men!" she barked out, "The country will not wait!"

_Karin De La Vallière_

She could not believe in Wardes' words. She had to hear it from her husband. As another bolt burnt one of those spider monstrosities —who apparently could spew out both acid and webbings from afar— she saw the royal Palace come into sight.

Her Manticore was tired from the long journey, which she had done at a speed that defied logic, but with just another push they'd be…

A building collapsed closer to the palace than before, and her eyes narrowed as she watched bony protrusions emerge from the ground. She kicked the flanks of her Manticore, holding on firmly as it soared in the air. Karin held her wand in her right hand and twirled it, releasing a steady stream of wind blades that tore through the buildings near those bones.

She wasn't holding back at all.

She made another passage around the area, her eyes peering through the dust that soon settled down. A robed figure was on the ground, his robes dark. She pulled on her manticore's reins, and then charged down with the creature's claws open.

Her familiar understood her silent orders, and the robed figure was soon firmly within its sharp talons.

"For the Scourge!" the necromancer bellowed even as she ignored his voice, the wind too strong to pick up more than the general tone of his voice.

Wardes, who stood atop his Griffon, soon flanked her.

"We'll have him tell us who leads their army," Karin yelled, "Towards the palace now!"

"Yes Commander," Wardes replied quickly.

The palace was entrenched with hastily summoned rock walls, spikes of steel formed with Alchemy and what little the mages could safely create by staying as far from the battle as possible. Karin felt the bile rise to her throat. It was disgusting to watch the nobles of the court —those who had remained behind— hold themselves in fear and tremble like children.

She landed in the courtyard, looking around with a murderous gaze.

"Pierre! Where the hell are you!?" she barked out loudly.

"Ah, my lovely wife!" the Duke of the La Vallière held his arms wide and a small smile on his face as he walked forth from a corner of the gardens. His clothes were strangely sombre, reminding her of the past times when he had been young and…

No, she couldn't let that bother her now.

She made a sharp click of her tongue as her Manticore dropped the robed man from its claws. "Pierre, before I make a spectacle of myself please deliver this necromancer to a safe location. He needs to be inter—"

"_**FOR THE SCOURGE!**_" the robed man was incredibly quick in grasping a long wavy dagger from within his robes and then…then _he stabbed himself with it straight where his heart was_. As he fell on the ground, gasping and laughing maniacally, he yelled aloud for all to hear.

"NONE SHALL…cough…STOP…argh…THE LICH KING!"

Wheezing out his last breath, he chuckled. "Ner'zhul…my soul is yours."

Karin's eyes were wide as she watched that happen so quickly it sounded surreal. She schooled her features the next second. "Pierre!" she barked. "Why are you, the Duke de la Vallière, still here?"

"Ah, I could not leave dear," the Duke replied firmly. "I never learned how to ride a Dragon after all," he chuckled. "I'm good only on a Manticore."

"You insufferable," Karin held her tongue. "Fine, what is the situation within the city then?"

"Ah, Duchess de la Vallière," an oily voice said then from her side, making her turn to stare at the Archbishop of the Tristania's Church, Gaugin de la Pasqual.

"Archbishop? Why are you here?" she asked bluntly. She would have expected him to leave as soon as possible, rather than remain behind.

"Unfortunately, men of my sizeable girth were not easy to help aboard a dragon," it was left unsaid that the true reason was that he was a fat-ass bastard who couldn't lift his wand for more than a minute. The Archbishop was, to define him better, a mix between a ball of fat and a sponge of sweat. He had half of his teeth swapped with gold, and those who knew him personally would rather receive an ointment from the next city, rather than go to his church.

"I heard some considerably dark accusations coming here," Karin said quickly, eying Wardes who had landed too. "I wish for confirmation."

"Surely, but first…Count Wardes? Where is the Princess? We received your first message, but not your second one…and your escort?"

"This is best brought to private ears, Archbishop," Wardes murmured. "Maybe an eye to eye meeting —I intended to warn the Queen first but if she managed to leave the city and is safe, it can wait."

The Duchess nodded firmly. "Indeed, unless I receiv—"

"Sacre bleu! Look!"

Karin spun sharply, her wand at the ready. What she saw…it froze her on the spot. The body of the Acolyte had disappeared into nothing, leaving behind only a stain of red blood on the dark and blighted ground. Yet what actually caught her attention was beyond that spot, where a man trudged forth holding a noble by the shoulder.

"What happened?" she was the first to ask the man as he neared —why was he looking at her with such wide eyes to begin with?

"I was attacked by their leader," he replied truthfully. "At least…it could only be it. She…she claimed herself the Founder's chosen, and said she was a Void Mage."

The attention the Captain had attracted was by far too much for the Archbishop's tastes. "Maybe we can deal with this later, in a private setting?" he suggested.

"She presented herself as Louise de la Vallière, and her appearance was normal at first but then…it was as if she was under a powerful illusion spell!"

"Silence, commoner! We'll speak of this later, in private! Not in public!"

"I can't do that!" Mordeau yelled back, "It might be too late! She flung something at me, and I can feel my own body _rotting_ from the inside!"

Karin felt the ground beneath her feet shift. Another confirmed what Wardes told and she refused to believe in…because it was impossible. She could have believed Eleanor doing it. She could have even stretched her belief to Cattleya, but Louise?

Louise was her youngest, barely able to light a candle with magic to begin with, and most of the time the candle exploded!

"She rode on a steed, and somehow managed to appear as living but…she wields a long jagged blade and her strength is inhuman! She fights with the strength of a grown man! She…argh…" the man fell down on one knee, coughing out raggedly.

"Get a Water Mage here, now!" the Archbishop barked. "Anyone!"

Karin looked up to the sky, as she felt herself carried to a corner by Centurion. "Pierre?"

"Hush," he replied. "We don't know yet."

"But—"

"Louise might be many things…but a cold blooded murderer?"

"But Pierre," Karin whispered harshly. "Wardes told me. And if it is true…then our daughter…_she killed the Princess_."

"Ah!" startled, Karin turned her head to where a peasant dressed girl was standing, holding on to a washbasin. She had been behind the corner, washing a few clothes…and she had probably heard, judging by the pallor of her face.

"_THE PRINCESS IS DEAD!?_" to that shriek from the olive-skinned girl…

A chorus of 'what' echoed through the rest of the gardens.

**Author's notes**

**This is starting to shape like Introverted. I wanted something easy on the brain, and then bam…turns out slightly less humour and slightly more dark.**

**Damn it muse, I hate you.**

**But one day, I will defeat you and write something with the right amount of good and evil.**

**This, I swear.**


	11. The Pain of Success

An Acolyte of Zero

Chapter Eleven

Louise watched Brussels from afar, atop the closest hill. The small village had a wood wall that surrounded it, probably because of its appeal to brigands who looked for an easy way into Romalia's border.

She could feel unease claw at her stomach.

_**With each step you take, you walk closer to your perfection as an instrument of the Scourge.**_

Steelmourne whispered to her ears, its handle feeling lukewarm even when gripped through her plated gauntlet. There was no doubt it would feel scorching to anyone else.

"Stay here for the moment, Acolyte," she said to the Acolyte who had followed them on the back of a Ghoul. "Ghouls? Let none live to see the dawn of a new day," and with those daunting words, she burst into a charge with her steed.

The Ghouls soon followed snarling and with their claws extended.

She crashed through the thin wooden gates first, even though the half-bored sentinel gave the alarm, it was no use. With speed, Steelmourne decapitated the man. Louise pushed her horse through the city, slicing at the people along the street and bellowing a ferocious warcry.

"_**I AM THE DARKNESS!**_"

The villagers killed by her blade returned to life as Zombie within minutes, gripping at the closest living being and tearing them apart with their bare hands or teeth, before proceeding to spread throughout the entire city.

The Ghouls worked fast, moving from building to building with alacrity and lack of fatigue. The villagers who escaped the initial purge ran into the forest, probably looking for a place to hide. They had no idea of the width of the problem, but they could wait.

First, the Acolyte reached the centre of the village and began summoning the Necropolis.

Secondly, Louise held tightly on the reins of her skeletal steed as she galloped along the road towards the direction of Tristania. She was going to be the last resort. If any carriage made it through, she would personally bring it down.

Until that moment happened however, it was better she kept herself out of sight.

One side of her was screaming that what she was doing was effectively crippling her offensive potential, but the other side, the one that was slowly but surely gaining ground…was whispering that in truth, she was just trying to avoid facing reality.

She was trying her hardest, not to be the one to personally deal a killing blow to one of her classmates, or schoolmates, or even 'rivals' like Kirche was.

She ground her teeth in frustration as she dismounted. The Acolyte and the army could work it off without her; she was sure of it. She only had to wait.

Wait…and hope her blade would not need to quench its thirst for souls upon one of the people she knew.

_Headmaster Osmond_

The carriages pulled to a stop. The horses neighed loudly, as if afraid to take another step. He climbed down from his spot atop a carriage —his old bones creaking in evident displeasure— and realized what the problem was.

The ground was rotting, dark and blighted; no surprise the horses refused to walk upon it. He too would have taken a detour, if only one was possible. Colbert guarded the carriage with the most dangerous artefacts, while he was in charge of the one at the head of the procession, with the oldest students who had volunteered to be the forward guard.

The youngest were at the end, and the 'important' ones in the middle.

He disliked having to choose and prioritize the safety among his students depending on rank and age, but he had no choice. As much as he liked to believe them equal, they simply couldn't be treated in the same way.

The exception to the students in the forward guard being of the last years was Guiche de Gramont. The reason was some sort of fight between girls, but he hadn't pried much.

The boy's 'Valkyrie' was a common golem, nothing a mage would sweat off against, but they served their purpose of disposable first line units.

He could expect from the scion of the Gramont family —a full-blown Earth Golem would be out of question. Still, with the Blight so close…

The blue dragon of Tabitha landed softly near the carriage, its owner carefully speaking.

"No one," the Gallian girl said, "The village is empty…There is no one."

The Headmaster frowned, but then nodded.

"I see…we will proceed with care then," he turned to give the all-right to the rest of the procession, and then kept his hands on his staff.

A wizard's strength was directly proportional to the amount of time they had to cast long-winded chants. He was one of the few who could get by without chanting, just like Karin the Heavy Wind and depending on the spell used Colbert. The rest of the staff of the Academy however had to chant to bring forth their power.

The horses took a moment to convince, and then they departed with a hesitant walk.

The sounds of their hooves clicking against the road enhanced the noise of the wheels of the carriages spinning with a creaking of old wood.

He had a bad feeling about the village —where could the villagers have gone, where could the enemy be? Those questions rung in his old man's head as he patted his familiar's head in an effort to hold his heart steady. He was too old for the battlefield, and yet the tension lingering in the air was the very same.

"Headmaster! From behind us!" the scream came from Professor Colbert, forcing him to turn his head sharply to take in the reason for such a warning.

The tall and bony protrusions that belonged now not only in his nightmares but also in reality sprung forth from the ground behind their carriages —a good deal back, but there wasn't only _one_ set.

More and more began to appear over the trees —dead mockeries of the living ones— and around them right next to cloaked men and robed cultists.

They surrounded them within moments with the strange summoning techniques.

"Quick everyone! Move ahead before they finish their summoning!

The horses broke into a gallop along the road and, in that moment, strange spider-like creatures broke from the very ground startling the horses and sending them to reel back on their hind legs.

Acidic spit sailed the air as the things attacked with speed, aiming at the horses.

He managed to bring forth a shield of rocks over the carriage, shielding it from harm. A few of the others weren't that lucky, and the sound of wood breaking and the children's screams reached his ears all too soon.

"Form a circle! The last years protect the young ones! Move!" Colbert's voice resounded sharply, as a gout of flames erupted from his staff to burn a spider monstrosity that had moved too close.

"For Nerub," the spiders intoned…and then the skittering sound of claws against the ground made Osmond pale.

The Ghouls emerged from the ranks of the spiders holding their vicious teeth ready as they poured forth.

He twisted his own staff upwards, transforming the barrier into a volley of fist-sized sharp rocks that flew to smash the heads and the carapaces of the creatures in front of him.

"Move forward! Don't stop!" he bellowed. "Get away from the carriages! Now!"

"What's going on!?" Cardinal Mazarin yelled out from his own carriage —straight in the centre of the formation. Osmond ignored him: he'd rather save the students than worry about the Cardinal.

With a sickening scream from afar, the constructions that inhabited his nightmares were now completed. He had no idea why those things scared him —it was more like his own instinct told him so, but then again why dream of those things too?

He didn't have the time to think about it, as the assault seemed plainly enough nothing more than a mean to stall for time.

Osmond slammed his staff on the ground, producing a deep crevice that cracked through the dirt and the road.

"Headmaster! What of the artefacts!?"

"Leave them behind Miss Longueville! Value your life more!"

Fouquet clenched her fists and then yelled back.

"We could use them! The staff of destruction could—"

The ground trembled, as rotten corpses began to rain down from the skies, slamming their putrid and bloated bodies on the ground in a sickening rain of blood.

"GYAH!" Montmorency screamed loudly as she held on to Katie's arm, the two girls trying to push their way forward behind the headmaster and the older years.

"We're going to die!" Malicorne yelled with tears coming down from his eyes. "I'm still a virgin!"

_Tabitha_

Tabitha's dragon flapped its wings, taking to the skies. The Gallian knight looked around sharply; her staff held in her right hand as Sylphid deftly avoided blobs of acid and webbing. She saw it then, where the trick had laid. The forest, even though made of old and rotten trees, had covered the robed Necromancers who had then surrounded the carriages' procession.

They had acted with perfect synchronicity, as expected of an organized military troop. She could feel the mounts of flesh that belonged to Kirche press against the back of her head, as the Germanian girl looked around frantically, rather than methodically.

"Where is Louise? She'll call them off if we can get her down on her knees!"

"Not here," Tabitha replied strictly.

"I know that, but where is she? A Commander should lead his men from the front, right? That's how we Germanian fight."

Sylphid made a 'Kyuu' sound sharply as she soared past the Crypt Fiends's attempts at stopping her. The village of Brussels passed by them in a blur, as the powerful wings of Tabitha's dragon carried them further down the—

A strong blunt object slammed against Sylphid's stomach, which soon sprung to life into webbing that trapped the dragon's wings. Tabitha barely managed to usher out an incantation to let her familiar levitate down softly, but a giant and broad steel sword soon chopped her staff the moment they reached the ground.

Sylphid fell harshly down against the dirt the last inches, sending Kirche to roll down from her mount and on the ground. She followed soon after, taking out a small wand she kept for emergencies.

It was then that she took in, for once, Louise de La Vallière's appearance in its true and full glory.

The girl she had known was gone and replaced with a broad shouldered and tall woman who held her face masked into one of scorn and hatred. Her armour was steel, and yet it continuously oozed out vapour as if it was extremely cold. A black furred mantle, the type one normally wore on the glacial peaks of Albion or during winters, was on her back. Her hair was pale, ashen with a light tinge of pink that looked more like bright grey —nearly white— and her eyes…

Tabitha had never seen those eyes before. Even when facing the man who had made her mother mad, or her cousin continuous insults, never had she faced such eyes. They scared her to her core.

The sword the girl wielded was tall and broad, with jagged edges and emitting the same vapours as her armour. Just as buckles linked the girl's mantle to her chestplate, so too did was the sword's handle strapped to the blade with a strong iron hilt that resembled the skull of some horned beast.

Runes shone brightly on the flat of the blade, in a cerulean light that made her uncomfortable.

Glittering gold symbols floated around Louise, their meaning unknown to her.

"Kirche," Tabitha whispered. "Free Sylphid."

"I'm afraid I can't let you do that," a throaty voice interrupted, coming from a giant spider monstrosity whose fangs gleamed as it skittered towards the dragon.

"Ohi! Away from the dragon!" Kirche exclaimed, moving to chant for a fire spell.

The Germanian found herself jumping back as a second spider nearly managed to hit her with a blob of acid.

"You know," Louise spoke casually. "As long as a Necropolis is built…as long as a Crypt is built…I can summon creatures from the Great Beyond with ease and…and there is nothing you can do to stop me. Eventually, with enough resources, enough power…I will overrun you."

Her voice was cold and uncaring. "Have any of you tasted death recently? I have and let me tell you…it is bitter."

"What?" Kirche's eyes bulged, as the Crypt Fiends appeared 'pacified' with merely keeping the two girls away from the dragon —and continuing to strengthen the webbing on the familiar in question.

"Death…I have faced and defeated Death twice," she remarked coldly. "It changes people, you know? Weak, eager to please Louise," she chuckled. "Easy to insult, to laugh at, to throw stuff at," she continued. "Oh look at her, summoning a commoner! Let's laugh at it, let's laugh at her misfortune!"

The woman in front of Tabitha snapped back furiously, with strength. "Well…eventually someone had to give…and I did. I wanted to prove myself. I wanted to believe I was something more than a Zero, a failure of a mage…and I did," she chuckled quietly. "I saw the powers my familiar wielded, and instead of holding them to himself, of using them for his own benefit…he shared them with me," her voice was soft now.

"Instead of denigrating me, Kirche…would it have cost you much to be kind?"

A chilling feeling ran down Kirche's spine. "Louise…I…I never meant…to…"

"Too late, Zerbst," Louise spat out. "I wonder, why help Tabitha and not me? Was it the surname? Did you prefer hold on to a pet, to a mage from Gallia with no surname rather than make a friend your equal?"

"Now, listen here…we both said words…"

"You began the teasing and the insults, Kirche Von Zerbst, no need to try to share the blame," Louise's eyes narrowed to slits. "Well, guess what?" she pointed her blade to the side of the road. "You can leave. I'm letting you go."

"What?" Tabitha's voice was soft as she said that, but her eyes looked around for a potential trap.

"You can both go, away. Leave Tristain this instant. Go to Germania, to Gallia, head to Romania or maybe go all the way to Albion for what I care," she took a single step forward. "And you want to know why I'm letting you go?"

Louise laughed.

"Because when my power, my strength, will conquer Tristain…when my armies shall march with the power of the Scourge upon Blighted ground towards your own…then, then I want you to be there and see for yourself your capitals fall to the ground in ashes."

She then closed your eyes. "By the way…you were lucky in leaving with Sylphid."

"Why?" Kirche croaked.

"Because all the others, those who left the carriages and ran towards the village…they're about to meet their end," Louise smiled. "Then again, you can't really expect me to fight fair, right?"

_Montmorency_

"Valkyrie!" Guiche's wand swished in the air as his minions rose from the ground —seven of them, charging forward with their swords high. "Attack!"

Their blades slashed against the bones of the undead monstrosities as they tried to push their way past them. Malicorne slammed a gust of wind against an incoming spit of acid, deflecting it on the ground. Reynard screamed as he held his hands to cover his ears, the snarls of the ghouls soon increasing with the moans of the first Spirit Towers completed.

Montmorency was holding on to Katie, both of them running behind Guiche.

One moment, she had the first year firmly in her arms. The next she…

The next moment, Katie's head burst in little pieces because of the claws of a ghoul that struck in mid-air. She froze, her hand still tightly holding on the limp body of Katie.

She had been fine a moment before.

Wasn't someone supposed to protect her?

Why…Why wasn't there someone there?

Someone? Anyone?

"Ah…" she felt herself grew faint.

"Monmon!" Guiche's voice called to her, but she felt herself wobble on her feet.

"Guiche! Look forward!" Malicorne yelled. "Move!"

"We're losing the others!" Reynald's shrieks were hysterical. "We're going to be overrun! It's all over! I DON'T WANT TO DIE MOM PLEASE I DON'T—"

A bolt of necromantic energy tore apart the boy's chest, as the Spirit Tower concentrated on their group next.

Montmorency watched Reynald's mouth fill with blood, before the boy feel down on his knees holding his bloodied hands in front of him. She could see clearly behind him too.

She giggled.

Reynald had a window in his chest…how funny was that?

"MOVE!" tall and muscled hands gripped her, forcing her to let go of Katie's body —poor girl, she just wanted to be loved by Guiche, but that bastard had used her.

The man who was pushing her forward belonged to one of the commoners in the kitchens —Marteau wasn't it? He was holding on to a giant pot, wielding it as if it was some sort of shield.

An olive skinned maid holding a giant backpack was just behind them, as they trailed away from the direction of the main group and ended up in the middle of the forest of dead trees.

"Montmorency?" Guiche's voice came to her ears again. She turned her gaze to stare at him, his face covered in splotches of red. Malicorne was nearby, holding on to his wand.

There was no Kirche or Tabitha. No Katie…it was only them and the two commoners…then her gaze went to the green haired woman a bit to the side. Miss Longueville was with them too?

That was good.

It was always good to have a teacher.

Why she was lugging around a dark black box was beyond her comprehension…but it was good to have her there with them.

Being with teachers kept students safe, didn't it?

_Colbert_

He once had sworn never to wield his wand again to kill. But was it betraying his promise, if the things he killed were monsters?

His flame snake, the signature move that earned him his nickname, heated the air and burnt to a crisp the incoming hordes from the sides of the village's mud and wood houses. Colbert gritted his teeth. Fires had naturally appeared around the target of his spells, the houses burning and the flames propagating. Smoke was coming thick and dark, reaching for the nostrils and forcing a few to double over in coughing fits.

Osmond walked forward, the Cardinal slightly behind him.

"We're nearly out of the village!" Osmond yelled, "Hold steady!"

"Headmaster! I can't find Bernadette!" an older student screamed from the back. "She was with me but! Argh…the smoke!"

"Move! Move!" Colbert bellowed, being the last of the line. "Get out of here now! The gate is there!"

It was a mad dash. The teachers held the line as much as they could, while the students tried to make a break through the corpses of the dead villagers that littered now the ground barely outside the village's gate.

Colbert exhaled in relief. The students were out, the undead army behind them and—

And then the corpses of the villagers moaned and grabbed with their undead hands the ankles of the running students, throwing them on the ground and biting upon their flesh like a mass of living, quivering creatures.

The screams reached Colbert ears, but he could not cast a spell. The students had mixed with the undead, and if he did try something so point-blank…

"Oh Founder," Osmond muttered next to him. "Oh Founder forgive me," he clasped his staff tightly.

"Headmaster?" Colbert held his staff near him, as he neared the old man now down on his knees. "Headmaster! We can't stay here!"

The bald professor tried to move the Headmaster, but to no avail. "Headmaster! Come on! Move!"

"No," Osmond murmured. "No, I'm not…I'm not leaving, Colbert," he shook his head. "I failed, Colbert. I was supposed to protect them!"

The sound of the Meat Wagons unleashing their disgusting projectiles echoed in the air, and soon the corpses slammed against the few students that still fought. In the end, only the dead and the undead remained.

Standing there, at the gates of the village, between a mass of zombie and a burning village still filled with creatures from hell…

"Headmaster! We need to leave all the same!" his wand thrust forward, he hesitated. The villagers' eyes were devoid and empty of life, and their mouth open and gasping for blood. Their snarls and their anger…

The smell of wood burning behind him.

Why did he have to remember it now?

"_WE AREN'T SICK!"_

"_THERE'S NO PLAGUE IN US!"_

"_PLEASE! WE'RE JUST—"_

Burn them all.

Those were his orders.

Those were his orders.

He had orders.

Those were his orders.

He lowered his staff.

"Ah…" Colbert smiled meekly. "I see…"

He chuckled. "In the end…everyone gets what they deserve."

Maybe it was because his eyes stood closed and his arms open wide, as if to embrace his defeat…

That he didn't realize the Cardinal was running back towards the centre of the village, trying to escape his inevitable fate.

"Founder, protect your pious follower," the Cardinal whispered frantically. "Guide me through the night. Guide me past the temptations of flesh and wealth. Guide me beyond the mortal tricks of men. Guide me, oh Founder. Please, guide me!"

A strong snarl made him scream in fear, as he toppled over his robes and fell. He didn't even have the time to reach for his wand, as a Ghoul jumped teeth bared against his neck.

He died among screams.

_Louise_

Louise overlooked the burning village from the nearby hill, standing on her horse. She watched as the Acolytes she had summoned began to shift through the artefacts, while the few ghouls and Crypt Fiends that remained began to walk back towards the Academy.

Summoning and then unsummoning everything but the Crypt, letting Louis deliver 'resources' from afar, preparing an ambush, using a Slaughterhouse…

All those things, she had done in less than fifteen minutes.

It was maddening just how powerful her powers were. She could feel them running through her veins, calling out for her to acquire more and more.

"Death Coil," she whispered, feeling somehow sated as her powers increased.

Had she gained a 'level'?

"Master," an Acolyte said, walking up the hill and bowing a few meters away from her. "We have amassed all the wealth. A Haunting will now begin."

"What of the artefacts? Anything worth my time?"

"Indeed, master," the Acolyte bowed as he extended a shining orb as red as the crimson sun. It shone brightly for a moment, before floating in mid-air and heading towards her sword. It connected with it and soon cracked open, releasing a wisp of fire that began to circle around the blade.

"A globe of fire," the Acolyte remarked. "Fire now runs through the blade."

"Indeed," Louise remarked. "I am leaving, Acolyte. I trust you will able to hold the place until the last coin of wealth is depleted?"

"Indeed master," the Acolyte bowed. "Indeed."

Louise yawned slightly.

Good…

This mission…she had completed it with success.


	12. The Siege of La Gramont

An Acolyte of Zero

Chapter Twelve

The Academy was floating.

Icebergs tied by chains floated around it, as the entire complex pulsed with necromantic energies that lifted her spirits beyond comprehension. The ground where the Academy had been was now nothing more than a giant hole, where a lake of putrid green water collected.

"Master," Louis said as she appeared in a flash of green in the courtyard of the now flying Academy. "Welcome back," he bowed deeply.

"Louis? The Academy is floating," she pointed out.

"Oh, yes. I found the upgrade button to be quite difficult to please but, in the end, it happened to yield," Louis acquiesced with a knowing nod.

Louise blinked. "Upgrade button?"

"Necropolis, Halls of the Dead, Black Citadel…the first is the basic form which can then be upgraded. Apparently this Academy had an upgrade available."

"So, now it floats?"

"It also moves, master," Louis remarked. "And fires," he added after a moment. "Albeit it is frankly a surprise it can move."

"So…this is a Black Citadel?"

She looked around the courtyard, taking in the subtle differences. There was no grass, but black marble tiles replaced the rotten ground. The walls were shining onyx, with pale teal faces of souls moaning through them as if they stood trapped within. Bone spikes and jet-black now surrounded each of the towers, once white and with a shining coloured symbol to specify its elemental side.

Atop them stood purple gems the size of carriages, and surrounding the gems, more souls moaned their pain and suffering.

Necromantic energies flowed freely around the walls and the air itself was thick with the smell of death and rot. Somehow, she felt at home.

That thought disturbed her more than anything else did.

"No, master. It is…something else. I cannot describe it. It resembles Dalaran, if the city ever were to decide to float for some reason. This should not normally be possible to achieve but…apparently, we satisfied the requisites for it."

"Like what? And where is Henrietta now?"

"I believe it required incredible amounts of resources and magical artefacts…or maybe your own powers, master, were sufficient. Why, I know of the Lich King's might in resurrecting an ancient blue dragon for his own purpose…maybe this is just an extension of your true self?"

She looked around the moaning and screaming souls that pleaded mercy in their strange tongues and shuddered. "I don't actually like all this black," she muttered softly.

"The Lich is, by the way, occupied summoning the new recruits."

"Recruits?"

"We have unlocked the Temple of the Damned, master. Necromancers can now be summoned as well as Banshees."

"Wait, you aren't a Necromancer to begin with?"

"I'm an Acolyte master. Necromancers have the power to command various types of Undead and even spread the undead plague as well. They can raise the dead to fight for our cause, cause an unholy frenzy in both the enemy and our troops, and Cripple the enemy drastically."

Louise began to walk inside, Louis followed quietly.

"Louis, do you think we can now assault the Capital? The Queen is not present there, but as to where she could be…"

"Master, I have gleamed upon the land and come to a conclusion. There are only three more battles between us and the completion of the campaign. One battle will take place upon the lands of your family, one will take place upon the Capital and the last one will be on the lands of the Gramont. The only thing I ask master is where shall the Scourge move first."

Louise exhaled; the hallways of the Academy now twisted into ice and bone mockeries of what they once had been menacingly glinted at her. She remembered the halls filled with life and the cheerful talking of the students, but now there was only death, cold breezes, and strange bearded people wearing horned skulls on their heads.

"The restless dead await," one spoke gravely, bowing to her as she passed by.

"The shadows beckon," another remarked as he opened the doors for her. She arrived in the general quarters, what once had been the lobby of the Academy now was a full-out strategic hall, filled with maps and…

Henrietta was holding an orb within her hands, which floated gently up and down in front of the Lich. Her cold eyes settled from the orb to her, and she bowed deeply at her entrance.

"Master," she hissed. "I have news. Some escaped," she remarked dryly. "Some, you let go."

Louise's gaze narrowed darkly. "It was my choice."

"I obey," Henrietta replied. "But we all bow to the will of Ner'zhul."

"You all bow to _my will_ here," she hissed back. "Do not forget it." She stepped closer, eying the maps. The dots of blight were expanding, as tiny green circles showed where Necropolis and Crypts were.

Some flared red for a moment, before disappearing completely along the path from La Gramont to the Capital.

"What is this about?" she asked, pointing at the red arrow that was apparently heading towards the capital.

"The enemy's flying units," Louis spoke gravely. "They are sending a relief team to the Capital. We have not yet unlocked our Gargoyles, albeit I'm sure attacking the Gramont lands will unlock them. It would be optimal to do so now, with much of their strength elsewhere."

"Uhm…what of the Queen?"

"Master, if what I gleamed from your thoughts is true, then she is here," Louis pointed at the La Gramont fortified citadel, "Or she is here," and with that, his finger went to the La Vallière lands.

"Which should we attack first, Louis?"

"If we attack the La Gramont, they will lose their supplies and their flying units most certainly. If we attack the la Vallière lands, they will not harness enough foot soldiers to stop us."

"What of the cavalry and the musket corps?"

"Master, I have no insight on where they might be," Louis admitted quietly. "They might be further to the North, closer to Germania."

"That would mean near the la Vallière," Louise whispered back. "We don't have enough units yet, do we? No, it's better to take away their flying units, whatever you mean with that." She pointed at La Gramont.

"Make sure the Acolytes expand the net of Necropolis. You said this thing could move? Then start moving it towards the La Gramont." She looked at the closest green dot. "I will rest for now, but when I wake up I will personally head towards the battlefield."

"Master, what of the mages' corpses we acquired?" Louis said carefully.

"Use them for the Scourge, of course," she retorted. "Deploy them to stall the La Vallière army from marching towards the Capital. They are expendable," she added. "But if they manage to hold…then I will reward them personally."

She didn't know with what, but then again those words always worked.

"Thy will be done, master," Louis bowed.

Louise left then, making her way to where once her room had been in the Academy. She entered the floor and was gobsmacked. The entire floor converted into a single, luscious and enormous bedroom, she lacked words to express her surprise. Louise carefully unclasped the buckles of her armour, letting the sword drop in the nearby weapon rack.

She removed her mantle and sighed as her fingers kept on trying to unfasten the belts and the metal links. She closed the distance with the mattress, dropping along the way everything else. She dropped face first on the soft bed, and within minutes, she was peacefully snoring.

_Malicorne_

He remembered the ice.

He remembered the cold embrace of death.

He remembered that he had pleaded for _anything_ to save him, because he didn't want to die. Maybe he was being cowardly, but when a voice had answered, he had grasped onto it.

And he had _breathed_.

He felt something wrong in his body since then. He felt rotten, twisted, as if something that was supposed to be there no longer was. But when Guiche had all but finished declaring him dead, he had reappeared.

Alive, breathing, a bit covered in ice but not by much.

He had been so close to death, they had believed, that his heartbeat had simply stopped for a moment.

They never thought to ask how he could have freed himself from the ice itself.

He trembled slightly, as he gazed into the empty eyes of Montmorency who was carefully cradling her wand as if it was the most precious thing in the world. The forest was once more luscious, and as they kept on trekking through it, memories became clearer and clearer.

This was the direction for La Rochelle. Soon, they would be at the Gallian border.

He would follow quietly the rest of the group. His gaze however, that was fixed on a single object.

Miss Longueville and the black pack she was carrying with her.

The Staff of Destruction, wasn't it?

If it was as powerful as the myths and the legends said, then it had to fall in his hands.

Afterwards…he would deliver it to his master, and in exchange…maybe the power to become a Lich would be within his grasp?

"Malicorne! Ohi!" Guiche exclaimed. "You all right? Don't zone off like that!"

"Sorry," he meekly replied. "It's just…Reynald…"

"Yeah," Guiche exhaled. "To think the Zero did all this," he trudged on. "Miss Longueville, how far until we reach the border?"

"Two hours," she replied from ahead of the line. "You know you can all just levitate and leave me behind, right?"

"Never!" Guiche exclaimed, "It is the most sacred duty of a noble, to help the common people!" he then flashed a smile to the olive skinned maid, who blushed and looked sideways.

"Ah! If only all nobles were like you, Monsieur Gramont!" Marteau said loudly.

"Ah," Guiche nervously chuckled. "Now you're flattering me."

Malicorne remained quiet after that. He had to warn his master of the threat, after all.

_La Gramont Lands_

Commander Depardieu was fifty-four years old. His aim had always been to reach the sixty, retire, hold a grandchild on each of his knees, and then die after a few years of peace on a fishing boat in the lake of his private lands. Now here he was, receiving reports of the countryside ravaged, the townspeople scared out of their wits and furthermore…

There was a giant menacing _thing_ coming from the South that was not, under any account, something seen before.

The navy of Tristain had all been deployed to bring relieve to the Capital, and not only had that taken away their fleet, but also many of their dragon, griffon and Manticore knights. Their supplies barely granted them the ability to float some battle barges, and even those couldn't continuously float.

The token force that remained held maybe a dozen of dragon knights, all lightly equipped and more valuable as scouts than actual combat. Twenty-four griffon knights composed the 'bulk' of the token defence, and for what concerned the Manticore…

He had three, and they were all bastards.

Both in the literal and figurative sense of the term, so to say.

The only thing he was glad of was that La Gramont was a fortress built upon five concentric rings, all of which protected with cannons mounted on the walls. A frontal assault would be meaningless, no matter the troops amassed. Even if the first ring fell, the others could just fire on the assaulters trying to march their way upwards or unleash a stream of boiling oil to 'wash away' the enemy.

The population that was trickling in however, those were starting to become a problem.

He had many ways to resupply the city. Be it by using the barges to carry food from the outside, or by instituting rationing. He was glad a few Earth mages had begun working with a couple of Water ones to come up with a mean to make the crops grow faster, even though he supposed that was just an excuse to stay away from the battlefield.

"An envoy at the gates!" a lightly armoured soldier —probably a recruit from the militia— exclaimed as he barged in the room he was using to strategize the defence.

"An envoy?" he had heard of the Necromancer not following protocols, killing the population of villages whenever they could.

"Yes, Commander," the recruit stumbled out nervously. "He's got the white flag and is on a horse too."

"Very well," he acquiesced. "Prepare me a dragon," if things turned sour, he could always fly back past the walls.

The beast he flew out of the city with was a well-behaved female dragon, who appeared slightly scared to boot as it landed in front of the horse rider.

The recruit could have mentioned the horse was a skeletal steed.

He also could have mentioned the envoy was a woman.

"You will surrender," the envoy spoke clearly and without hesitation. "Do so, and you will be spared the pain."

"This is not how we treat diplomatically, miss," he retorted holding on to the reins of his dragon. "And you have what army, to scale our walls? Germania tried to capture this very city time and time again, and repeatedly we staved off their Valkyrie, their armies and their steel. You may possess foul magic, but even that will run out with time against our walls!"

"I will make my offer one last time," the woman remarked. "Surrender now, or suffer in your death forever."

"We will never surrender to the likes of you!" he spat out angrily. "We have thousands of soldiers ready to lay their lives down in the name of the Queen! You will not conquer our walls!"

"I do not need to conquer your walls, foolish imbecile," she snarled, tugging on the reins of her steed to trot away.

_**But the truest victory is stirring the hearts of your people.**_

"_All I need to conquer is Death._"

She murmured the last part with a quiet and subdued tone, and then as one she was gone, teleported to the highest tower of the Academy itself, who was at the horizon.

"Until we reach the La Gramont," she remarked, grabbing the helm that Louis had brought her and putting it on to protect her face. "Give Henrietta the order."

"Thy will be done."

Then Louise watched.

_Henrietta_

She brought up her delicate white arm, and then gestured for the walls.

"FIRE!"

The meat wagons fired, their corpse filled bellies emptying with each attack. The bodies of the deceased flung themselves against the walls, splattering their innards or showering in blood the defendants.

"Disgusting heathens!" the captain on the wall gagged at the sight, "Fire back men! Show them what cannons can do!"

The cannons opened fire then, slamming against the ground and tearing apart a few of the enemy's siege means. If 'siege' was as an apt term…how were they planning to take down their walls using corpses? Furthermore, it was more the amount that sailed harmlessly past them than the amount that actually hit the walls.

There wasn't even an attempt at bringing forth a ram or a trebuchet. Only those strange catapults that flung corpses ended up attacking the walls and the city.

He saw the ground become rotten, as near the assaulters strange constructions began to appear one after the other. Buildings as tall as mansions finished constructing in seconds, as his blood began to run cold. The men assigned to the cannons recharged them with militaristic precision, but it was unnerving to watch the corpses flung over the stone guards and on the rooftops.

Were they expecting to protract the siege for so long, that the corpses would start to rot?

A few mages would take care of them in no—

"The gates are opening!" a recruit yelled next to him, as he turned to stare at the entrance to La Gramont. Men with skulls and long robes, wielding staffs and uttering incantations were standing on one side —the _wrong_ one.

The corpses that fell from the skies were suddenly surrounded by dark green light, and beneath his watchful eyes…they transformed, becoming skeletons with swords made of their very bones.

"Necromancers! They must have mixed with the refugees!"

"Move to close the gates!" he bellowed to a few musketeers near him, gesturing with his own sword towards the upper side of the gates in question. "Thankfully their armies aren't clos—"

And in that moment, the ground trembled and shook as just a few meters away from the gates, dozens of giant spider monstrosities emerged and began to charge forward.

"ALL MEN, TO ARMS!"

Henrietta looked at the living panic, forgetting about her and the Meat Wagons. She made a single sharp nod towards the Acolyte near her, and he bowed profusely before starting to walk towards the gates.

The Meat Wagons opened fire once more.

Corpses rained from the skies, slamming against the few who had remained to guard the cannons in her direction on the first ring, smashing them to a pulp as they screamed their dying breaths drowned in blood. Henrietta floated forth next, and with a single well-placed Frost Nova…

_Opened a breach in the walls_.

"EMBRACE THE SCOURGE!" she screeched as she charged ahead. The Crypt Fiends would keep pressure on the gates, while she would aim for the breach together with her own troops.

Ghouls dashed, faster than she was. Skeletons emerged to hold back the defenders, giving time for the Crypt Fiends to enter through the gates opened with treason.

Soon the shields and the lances of the militia met with the bones and the claws of the attackers…

And glorious carnage, for the Scourge, began.

_Louise_

Louise watched, from high above, the first offensive.

The Scourge had not an end. She could summon countless numbers from the Great Beyond, and they did not tire. As long as pressure was kept, eventually the defenders would fall.

"How close must we get, before we can fire upon the city?" she asked Louis.

"We are not yet in range, master," the Acolyte remarked. "We can however upgrade the Halls of the Dead to a Black Citadel, and unlock the Gargoyles."

"Do so," she nodded firmly. "I will lead the charge to claim the second ring. Amass more troops, keep the pressure up and have the Acolytes build Ziggurats to expand the influence of the Blight."

"Yes, master." Louis bowed deeply.

"Oh and…Louis?"

"Yes, master?"

"You can call me Louise," she said hesitantly.

"Master Louise?"

"No, only…Louise."

"I understand," he breathed once, sharply. "Louise."

"G-Good," she nodded firmly, her helm clanking slightly as she turned to leave and teleport down, to take her place with the waves of reinforcements.

La Gramont would fall.

She would make sure of that personally.

**Author's notes**

**La Gramont…imagine it as Minas Tirith. **

**As for win/losses, Louise has already lost a few times. She isn't on a complete Victory spree. The Capital can be imagined as a 'contested' Stratholme.**

**The Academy is now an Undeath-themed flying Dalaran.**

**Void powers…always acting silly.**


	13. The Breaking of La Gramont

An Acolyte of Zero

Chapter Thirteen

The shields of Tristain were small, easy to walk and march with, but at the same time _too small_ to protect every inch of one's body. Cavalry generally used them, or the flying soldiers that needed mobility rather than protection.

Being however cheap to produce and easy to use, the shields were the common sight on the militia's arms.

Occupying an entire road were thus these soldiers, these conscripted militiamen who followed the commands of their assigned squad leader —always a noble— and that, since they were but farmers and artisans were trembling like leaves to the wind as the sound of battle grew nearer.

"Now listen here, commoners," the noble said from his horse, trotting in front of them. "Hold your lances tightly and your shields in front of you. Anyone can make a phalanx, understood?" he sniffed loudly, "They have to run uphill to boot, so don't worry and hold the line. We have cannons behind you ready to fire at my command."

The sounds of battle grew stronger. The noble's skin paled slightly. He gave one last strong sniff to a tobacco cartridge, and then kicked the flanks of his horse to move behind the phalanx.

He had command of over one hundred militiamen.

The sound of a horse neighing loudly and galloping froze the Viscount Borgnac for a fleeting moment. The screams that came now weren't only of fear, but also sharp shrills that chilled his very bones.

"FORWARD! FORWARD FOR THE SCOURGE! YAH! YAH!"

"H-Hold!" he exclaimed as he watched the last commoners of the phalanx that was supposed to be in front of them appear, rounding a curve and without weapons. Their faces filled with fear, they kept on running, screaming and crying.

"Save us! We—"

"Hold the lances!" Borgnac exclaimed. "Those who run aren't worthy of consideration! Keep yourself steady!"

Then the first Ghoul rounded the corner, its appearance covered by thick blood splatter, his teeth filled with bits and pieces of skin and flesh. It charged ahead with a snarl, only for an arrow to slam harmlessly against its ribcage. More arrows rained down from the ring walls above, doing nothing but slamming against the ground or the bones and breaking apart, rather than actually inflicting damage.

Screaming, as if it could somehow help them, the cowards of the previous phalanx slammed without care against the tip of the lances. Their gazes morphed to shock as their eyes widened.

"HOLD THE LANCES DOWN, COMMONERS!" Borgnac exclaimed. "They can't pass a wall of lances!"

The Scourge didn't need to pass by.

Following the first ghoul was another, and then half a dozen. Six soon became twenty, as the horde charged ahead with teeth bared and claws ready. In the midst of them was a knight atop a skeletal steed with long flowing white hair that flowed in the wind from beneath his helm.

The count of Borgnac held his wand, ready to pronounce an incantation.

"Death Coil."

A sickly bolt of green slammed in his chest, and he was no more.

Louise watched the noble fall from his steed with a dull thud, without even having the time to spew some nonsense on honour or duelling. The commoners realized all too late that the thick necromantic-enhanced bones of her Ghouls were immune to things such as their lances, and their powerful claws came down like steel against their leather armours.

Blood sprayed as grievous wounds gutted out the first rows of the phalanx. The few who dropped their lances in exchange for their daggers, their swords or what little they had past the assigned… _they died next_, trying to put up a resistance that meant nothing to the Ghouls.

Louise screamed as he twirled her sword, charging ahead and letting Steelmourne feast on the back of the routing militia.

Her exhilaration brought her to push herself in the midst of the crowd, slicing right and left as limbs sailed in the air. Laughing, she screamed once more.

"_FOR THE SCOURGE! FOR THE FOUNDER'S TRUE FAITH! I AM THE DARKNESS THAT BEFALLS UPON THE HERETICS!_"

"Fire!" a strong voice bellowed. Louise's head swiftly spun to the side where such a scream had come from, and her eyes widened for a fraction as atop a nearby house's roof a group of musket-wielding men delivered a devastating salvo.

A few ghouls fell on the ground in charred bones the next instant, one even leaping in mid-air to guard her with its rotten body —let it never be said that Undead had no dedication to the cause. Louise didn't stop, even as the ground exploded from the cannonballs, sending cobblestone shrapnel to clink against her armour. Her steed neighed even louder, as she kicked its flanks and pushed the skeletal beast forward.

"FORWARD!" she turned to gaze at her reinforcements. Necromancers murmured strange words of power as skeletons rose from the corpses of the deceased, clacking their teeth as they charged ahead —sword and shield in hand.

Cannons fired around Louise, digging holes in the ground and breaking apart the cobblestone. Corpses fell from the skies as an unnatural chill filled the air.

"Frost Nova," the hissing voice of Henrietta came from behind a dark alleyway, where she came out of together with a skittering horde of Crypt Fiends. The acidic spits sailed in the air towards the cannons of the second ring, as a wall of ice froze solid a chunk of the defenders on the walls.

"Towards the gates, master!" Henrietta bellowed. "For Ner'Zhul!"

"For the Scourge!" Louise's hands tugged hard on her steed's reins the next instant, as she came to an abrupt halt. Earth golems stood in front of the gate for the second ring, as atop it a group of nobles were holding their wands out and a victorious smirk on their faces said it all.

"Heathen! You shall now face the full blunt of the Bolzac family! We are Earth masters, and to us you will bow!"

"Henrietta," Louise hissed, "Take care of those buffoons."

"It will be my pleasure, master," Henrietta bowed her head, before bringing her right hand up towards a nearby skeleton. It cracked apart as the necromantic energies that powered it were syphoned away, into Henrietta's own body.

"Ah, that hit the spot," the Lich remarked dryly. Her hands came together as she began to chant.

The golems charged forward, as Louise yelled and pointed at them with her sword. "Hold them back!"

The skeletons leaped ahead, uncaring of the fact the golems crushed them by the dozen. The ghouls slashed to no avail at the hard rock, while the Crypt Fiend's acidic blobs actually managed to soften them up. Louise charged with her steed, bringing Steelmourne to slice to her right in an arc just as she passed by the leg of one of those monstrosities.

The leg cracked as the golem flailed and fell down, no longer stable without its right leg.

Louise laughed out hard as she screamed. "Is that the best you can do, masters of the Earth!? Well! Let me show you what a true master of the Void can do then!"

Henrietta finished her chanting then, as a tornado of water and chunks of ice formed from the tip of her fingers, slamming into the chest of the remaining golem and sending it to fly against the gates' wooden frame. The walls near it shook and cracked, soon followed by the wood breaking apart as icicles began to form all around the archway.

The Bolzac brothers screamed as the wall they stood upon broke, letting them fall down to their doom in the midst of the Scourge's advancing troops.

The second ring of the city held the quarters assigned to the merchants. The scared citizens had ransacked the shops before fleeing, judging by their state. Louise didn't much care for material wealth or possessions, but she did stop her advance for a moment as her gaze lingered over a broken glass panel.

Beyond it was a silly thing, really. She knew better than actually be interested in it, and it wasn't as if she'd ever even wear it.

What she saw was a frilly dress one usually wears before a date of sorts. It was a bit dirty, but the silk dyed a light blue and white colour was beautiful. She watched the cloth flap around to the wind for a moment, forgetting all about the screams of the wounded or the smell of gunpowder and blood in the air. She trotted silently towards the thing, and then gave a hesitant look around.

The Ghouls were slashing away merrily at a few looters who had taken their time and now had no escape. The Crypt Fiends were spitting out acid to keep the musketeers of the third ring behind their stone guards, and Henrietta was floating ahead with the Necromancers.

The Meat Wagons clicked in with their strange appearance after a while, and soon the street was devoid of everything save for her and that flapping dress.

She clenched her gauntleted hand on the reins of her steed. She looked at her armour, her sword, her entire being. Could she actually take that dress?

There was nothing stopping her, was there?

It was silly to overthink it. She looked carefully around one last time, and then grabbed the dress. The moment she pulled it away from the broken window, it made a terrible scratching sound.

The dress was torn.

She let go of it, watching the wind pick up a gentle breeze and lifting the tattered frilly thing up in the air, where it disappeared beyond a rooftop.

She exhaled, letting a cloud of cold vapours escape her throat.

A loud bang resounded, hitting her armoured shoulder pads and forcing her to gaze back towards the third ring. A scared and trembling human —barely beyond his teens— was holding on to a musket with all the courage he could muster. He had his eyes open wide, his teeth grounded furiously.

She smiled, briefly, towards the boy. Not that he could see her, what with the helmet blocking the sight of her face from view.

The boy ran away, probably scared by her cocking her head to the side.

She tugged on the reins of her steed again, and swiftly galloped once more to the frontlines. Steelmourne sang as she brought it down to decapitate a militiaman, before twisting it into the chest of a courageous dagger-wielding man that tried to push her off her horse.

Louise laughed bitterly. Hers was no longer the age of frilly dresses and dates.

Really, how stupid could that thought be?

Hers…was the time of blood and steel.

"FOR THE SCOURGE!" she screamed then, letting the agony that clasped in her heart rend free from its cage, "FOR THE VOID'S CHOSEN!"

"EMBRACE THE COLD!" Henrietta screeched from her side, blasting in chunks of ice a dozen men, leaving behind only frozen statues of corpses.

Skeletons rose with their blades, cutting through flesh and holding their shields to block the muskets' bullets.

"Lances do nothing! Retreat! Retreat!" a Death Coil cut the scream short, slamming into the chest of the noble.

"One would think," Louise grumbled, "That nobles would use magic in battle."

"A lot can't even remember the school incantations, master," Henrietta replied. "They are generally unneeded while holding court and drinking…and in battle there are rules about mage duels to make sure both parties can safely survive."

"So I've been breaking war protocol?" Louise asked dryly. "Heretics don't deserve it anyway I suppose."

"All must bow to the Scourge!" a Necromancer yelled aloud nearby, before conjuring two skeletons from a single corpse.

"How is that even possible?" Louise muttered to herself.

"Magic, master," Henrietta replied as if she was schooling a child.

"I know that!" Louise bitterly retorted.

A thunder echoed in the sky in that instant.

Louise's eyes shot up, to the sky. Clouds of black and lightning bolts streaked along, as the Academy slowly came closer with each passing moment.

"Ma-Louise," Louis said then crisply, "We will soon be ready. The Gargoyles are amassed and prepared for launch."

She could imagine them. Long, leathery wings with an ugly lean body, sharp giant teeth and wicked claws ready and flapping around the border of the academy…waiting for her signal, before falling off and beginning their descent.

_Depardieu_

The sun was gone. The rain was pouring down.

All hope was lost.

"KEEP THE GUNPOWDER DRY FOR BRIMIR'S SAKE!" he yelled as he stood out in the middle of the field of the fifth ring, his sword in hand and flailing it around, as if it could speed things up. "WE NEED THE MUSKETS PRIMED!"

"Commander!" a noble's quavering voice reached him, belonging to an old croon he'd rather see dead. "We can use the dragons to leave now, can't we? We kept them in reserve for this."

"We will mount a counterattack when their pressure wanes after the third ring!" Depardieu yelled, "No running!"

"Commander! I am Count La Boeuf de la Grignac! I will not stay here to die!" the old croon screeched back. "Admiral la Gramont may have given you the task to protect the city, but he did not grant you power over nobility! The Queen _must_ be kept safe!"

Depardieu growled. "You want to leave with the Queen then!?" he took a few steps forward, stopping inches away from the old man who had his wand out to keep himself warm and out of the rain falling. "To where? There is nothing but them everywhere around us! Look at those monstrosities! There is no escape from here, La Boeuf! We all fight, and we either die upon our ground sword in hand, or with our backs turned and stabbed!" he snarled, turning away from the old imbecile and marching steadfastly towards the edge of the walls of the fifth ring.

To his sides, he had the menacing mouths of cannons with water glistening and falling down their edges. The commoners operating them held grim visages, but their eyes seemed to shine with the uttermost conviction.

"MEN OF LA GRAMONT!" he bellowed, his roar echoing through the deafening sound of thunder rumbling and lightning striking down. "THE ENEMY IS COMING! WHAT SHALL WE TELL HIM, WHEN HE COMES FOR US!?"

"FUCK OFF!" one of the men from the nearby rooftop yelled back. "This is our city!"

"Yeah!"

"WE'LL SHOW THEM GOOD!"

"_MEN! BRACE YOUR SOULS AGAINST THE DEMONS THAT MARCH UPON OUR GROUND! TO THE FOUNDER, WE MUST PRAY FOR SALVATION!_" a young priest —one of the few that had remained behind to take care of the Cathedral— screamed them with his high-pitched voice.

"We'll kick their asses back to hell!" a burly man with a wood axe drunkenly yelled.

"We will stop them here and now!" Depardieu exclaimed. "The Queen is in the Cathedral! They must not reach her! If the rain will silence our guns, we will use our swords! If the rain will rust our steel, we will fight with our hands! Let none pass beyond this point! LET NONE PAS—"

With a terrifying screech, the gate that connected the second ring to the third broke apart. Depardieu watched the gate crumple, as the knight of black and purple that led the monstrous demons ploughed ahead against the brave men chosen to stand and wither their army. Yet they didn't seem to be losing momentum.

If this kept up, they'd be at the fifth gate in a matter of hours, rather than days.

"Fire!" Depardieu roared, "Bring down the houses on them, men!"

The cannons roared as they delivered their salvo against the ground, the cannonballs pushing through the walls of the houses and crashing down together with them.

"That was my house!" a man screeched from the rows.

From the ruins, claws dug their way out.

Still, Depardieu observed, the knight no longer was on his saddle.

It was better tha—

A powerful bolt of pure white tore apart the third ring's wall all the way towards the fourth, leaving behind only a streak of charred black ashes. The white radiance blinded him, making him scream as he tried to shield his face from the attack. He could feel the air grew noticeably cold, as if someone has suddenly dropped a massive wave of ice atop his entire body.

When his sight returned, it was to behold the devastation.

From the third ring, directly perpendicular towards the cathedral, there was nothing left. Not even the road, the houses, or the musketeers he had carefully positioned to ambush the enemy forces had survived.

There was just a streak of fuming black ground, which created a breach directly for the fifth's ring gate.

What should have taken hours happened in minutes, as his gaze came up to stare, his mouth open and his soul shuddering, in front of the titanic floating fortress that came down from the clouds.

Hordes of Gargoyles screeched their cacophony as they fell down from the skies, opening their powerful wings as they pierced through the air, their speed increasing in their dive.

What truly froze him, however…was the scream that came afterwards.

"FOR THE SCOURGE!" and the knight, no longer on his horse, began to charge at the head of his army towards the last gate.

_Queen Marianne_

"Your highness?" her handmaiden said quietly. "Commander Depardieu said to prepare to leave immediately."

She looked up from her spot, kneeling in front of the altar of the Cathedral.

Close to her were the women, the elderly, the children and the frail. If she left, they would know something was wrong. If she left…they would die.

"Tell the Commander I will not leave," she replied. "I am sure help will come."

"Your Highness," the handmaiden brought a hand to her chest. "Please, I beg of you to reconsider."

"No," she shook her head. "A Queen without a country isn't a queen to begin with," she smiled softly. "I will remain here. Maybe the Founder will bring us a miracle before the dawn breaks?"

"Your Highness…" a young priest, Martin —if she remembered correctly— came past the handmaiden. He was utterly drenched in water, and his teeth chattered. "They…ask for you."

"Who?"

"Your daughter, my Queen," Martin replied in a soft subdued tone.

Marianne's eyes opened wide as she stood up from her knelt position, dusting off her gown and standing straight up. "Henrietta? She's here? Has she arrived with reinforcements?"

"Your Highness…" Martin croaked out, "She…"

The sharp scream of denial rang high through the cathedral's walls, as the Queen clenched her hands to her chest and began to cry and shriek, shaking her head fiercely.

In a corner of the dark room, an old and frail looking man with a long beard and dark eyes smiled. His hand went to the handle of his dagger, his eyes settled on the closest living being. Soon…

Soon the Scourge would reign forever.

"_None_…" he whispered, "_Shall survive_."

**Author's notes**

**Derflinger will arrive at the end of the Tutorial, which means at the conquest of the Capital.**

**It's useless to say 'put him in already'. What am I supposed to do? Have him fly over the air for no apparent reason?**

**Ps: my hands hurt so much I'm thinking I've got the onset of arthritis. That's why I'm considerably slowed down on updates this time around.**


	14. The Fall of La Gramont

An Acolyte of Zero

Chapter Fourteen

Queen Marianne walked out of the cathedral, looking at the downpour with frightened eyes. She felt like a doe caught in the middle of a hunting game, or like a tiny fox about to go for a game against giant dogs. Her eyes wide, she trudged beneath a wide umbrella her handmaiden held for her towards the gate's archway. Carefully climbing the rock staircases one at the time, she held on to the arm of a nearby valiant young soldier.

"Commander," she whispered then, standing next to Depardieu, who held a grim visage on his face. "Where is she?"

The Commander pointed towards the amassing forces beyond the gate. Marianne looked the masses of cadaveric creatures standing hunched and with gleaming claws. She saw old looking men with long beards wearing horned skulls and holding on to staffs. She gazed at the giant spider monstrosities that were furiously cleaning their fangs, as if awaiting a delicious supper.

She trembled at the sight of the strange machinery that was making its way _clicking_ towards them.

Finally, her eyes settled on two figures, standing side by side beneath the rain. One was deathly pale, covered immodestly by mere black cloth wrappings. She brought a hand to her throat as she realized that the person standing next to the knight…

Was Henrietta.

"HENRIETTA!" she screeched, grabbing at the stone guard of the archway, trying to push her body beyond it only for the Commander and her Handmaiden to hold her back. "HENRIETTA!"

Marianne didn't know if it was the rain or the tears that fell from her face more copiously. She trembled, her legs growing weak, as she felt faint.

Then, Henrietta answered.

"Mother," she spoke cold words that the wind carried to her with ease, "What a pleasant surprise," she added. "Open the doors, mother. Let us in, and this can end here and now," her daughter said. "You have no hope. You have no escape. Beneath this black sky and this rain, today is the day your kingdom falls."

"Henrietta…" Marianne's voice grew weak as she fell down on her knees, her head low looking at the ground and shaking it viciously. "Why?"

"All must embrace the Scourge, mother," Henrietta snarled. "All must bow to the Lich King!"

"Who did this to you, who?" Marianne shrieked, her voice ragged, "Why? WHY!?"

"There is no why in this, mother," Henrietta smiled. "The Scourge gave me power beyond your imagination. No longer do I need to bow my head to the Cardinal, to the nobles. _I AM FREE TO SERVE THE LICH KING_! Soon, mother, soon…you will join us, like all others before you! _NONE SHALL STAND AGAINST THE SCOURGE!_"

"Commander," Marianne croaked out slowly. "She…She is no longer my daughter," she whispered as a thunder echoed in the sky. "Do what you must."

"Queen Marianne!" the voice that came next was female, and it came from the knight clad in dark armour. "You can still surrender here and now! I promise you a clean death, a clean rebirth in the ranks of the Founder's faithful!"

"Faithful?" Marianne murmured. "What madness…what madness are you suffering from!? _**YOU CORRUPTED MY DAUGHTER WITH YOUR BLASPHEMOUS DEMONIC MAGIC! HOW CAN YOU CALL YOURSELF FAITHFUL TO THE FOUNDER!?"**_

The Knight shook her head, the pale white hair gleaming beneath the rain. "Heretics will never understand us, until they are converted," Louise bitterly snarled. "You _will_ see! _**I WILL SHOW YOU MY PATH IS THE RIGHT ONE!**_"

The knight clasped then on to her giant sword and slammed it on the ground. It shone of pale blue light, as the water around turned to frost.

"My path is right," the knight whispered. "Now, enough dallying," the woman added.

"_**Time…to die**_."

With those words, _the clicking stopped._

The gate's frame trembled. The wood splintered. The shields held high, the humans breathed.

"Do not falter in front of evil!" Depardieu bellowed. "Have faith in the Founder's providence!"

The ground shook.

A few soldiers gasped, their breathing ragged.

Drums sprung to life from behind, trumpets tried to choke out sounds of encouragement. The downpour fell copiously. The cannons unused, thrown beyond the gates and the walls, slammed against the incoming hordes.

Louise watched the gate, the corpses of the Meat Wagons pounding against the wood. She was doing this on purpose. Slowly, ever so, the gates would break. She stood among her troops, loyal and faithful. Many yelped as the cannons fell like impromptu boulders.

She felt it within, the snarls and the shrieks of the Gargoyles flying like vultures around their prey.

She felt the Blight over the land she walked.

High in the sky, an eagle shrieked as a Gargoyle swooped down to feast on it. Maybe it had been a messenger bird. Now it was only a snack for a beast from the frozen peaks of Northrend. Just as one of the eagle's feathers fell, slick with blood and water, the sound of crashing echoed even among the thunder noise.

Down on the ground, a battle raged soon after. An axe swung, a spider brought his head too close, and the lumberjack decapitated the creature. Blood splattered, vicious and green, on the ground. The cobblestone drenched in water and blood was slippery beneath Louise's steel boots. The cathedral's bells rung, deep dark notes echoed in the air as the Death Knight of the Scourge brought her Steelmourne to bear.

Her mantle flapped in the wind, her eyes narrowed to slits. A man charged at her, screaming in fear and rage. She lowered her head slightly, letting the enemy's blade soar harmlessly over her. Her left hand grabbed the man's wrist, and she shattered it with a strong pressure. Her sword plunged forth then, twisting in his insides.

She spun on herself, taking the blade out as she swung it down mercilessly on the second enemy that came forth. Four more attacked then, but she did not care. Ghouls snarled jumping to her side, covering her flanks as she marched forth in the middle of blood and gore.

Shields dented under her attacks, arms shattered and laid limp as the next blow proved always to be the fatal one. She laughed as fire rained down from the skies, the Griffons' last stand blotted out by the greasy webs of her Crypt Fiends.

A pistol fired a shot, the bullet ricocheting off her armour.

Waves of frost and cold tore through the knights assembled. Nobles fired wind blades and stone rocks, smashing a dozen or so of ghouls who crumbled to dust. Louise charged ahead, holding Steelmourne with both hands and spinning around in wide swipes.

Fire crashed on a Necromancer, setting his robes on fire. The moment he died, skeletons conjured fell to the ground lifelessly, their bones disappearing.

"STEELMOURNE HUNGERS!" she screamed. "Forward! Let none live to see the dawn break!"

An axe came down on her back. Louise felt air leave her lungs from the strength of the impact. She twisted her hand behind, gripping the weapon and dislodging it _from her spine_.

The wound closed, she twisted the axe in her other hand and then laughed.

"_I AM THE FOUNDER'S CHOSEN! ALL HERESY SHALL BE PURGED, FOR WE ARE THE FOUNDER'S SCOURGE!_" she flung the axe, watching it fly and lodge itself deeply into chest of a guardsman, who was pushed back by the blow and fell on his back on the ground.

"Well!?" Louise bellowed mockingly. "No great hero comes to challenge me!? Is this all you pathetic heretics can do? Not even a day has passed, and yet here you all are clawing at the ground! Your thousand men mean nothing to the Scourge! _We are endless!_"

"Do not be mistaken, heathen!" a voice bellowed, belonging to a fully armoured knight on a steed, wielding a flail. "Our souls are pure in the name of the Founder! We shall claim your life hence! FORWARD KNIGHTS OF LA GRAMONT!" twirling his flail, Commander Depardieu charged.

A few Gargoyles swooped down screeching, only for thunderbolts to slam with ferocity against their chests sending them twitching on the ground in a pile of bones and broken flesh. Dragons rose to the sky beneath the downpour, Griffon and Manticores following swiftly. Beaks met with claws, leathery wings fought against feathered and scaled ones.

A Gargoyle spun in mid-air, slamming itself without care for his life against a Griffon. The animal squawked as the Undead creature pummelled him towards the ground, his rider out cold for the strength of the blow. A blade of wind tore the wings of another Gargoyle; two more came down to rip apart the wings of the dragon-riding noble that had dared to do that.

Louise brought up Steelmourne in that moment, as the flail's chain twisted around it. Depardieu weighed considerably on the heavy scale, he was fully armoured, on a horse, and had trained all his life. Louise de la Vallière was strong only by the power of the Scourge's wicked energies.

Still, Steelmourne's blade cut through the links of the chain that held the flail's weight with ease, letting the extremity slam thusly against Louise's chest and sending her to tumble on the ground with her breathing ragged. It had felt as if a cannonball had suddenly decided to slam in her guts, and it didn't feel good. She felt iron in her mouth as she slowly stumbled back up.

A shoulder pad crashed into her, as a lance found its way through her neck. She gagged, feeling herself grow weaker as light waned from her sight.

A Crypt Fiend snarled, slamming its fangs on the lancer in question who screamed as the spider _torn him to bits and flung the remains in the air_.

"All must fall before the Scourge!" the Nerubian bellowed, before slamming its stinger into the chest of another man.

Louise growled as she flexed her fingers, bringing her gauntleted arm to her bleeding neck. The wound had closed already, leaving behind not even a blemish or a scar.

The scream that emerged from her throat was nothing short of banshee-like as she gripped tightly with both hands Steelmourne. She swept the sword forward, cutting in half the closest guard from the upper left shoulder down to the base of his hips. Blood sprayed over her armour, soaking her mantle as she pushed forward with strong steps on the cobblestone now filling with corpses.

Skeletons cackled madly as their swords met with the enemy's steel, the blades sparking as they parried each other's blows. A guardsman kicked the foreleg of the enemy skeleton with his steel boot, cracking it open and unbalancing the undead who fell on the ground with the clattering sound of broken bones. Bashing his shield against the skull, the guard screamed in rage.

"TAKE THIS, YOU—"

A bolt of sickly green energies pierced through his abdomen, coming from a nearby Necromancer who laughed aloud.

"They'll all be mine, in the end!"

The Necromancer's corpse fell limp on the ground next, as a Morningstar swung down on the side of the man's neck, sending the head to roll in the air.

"Kill the Necromancers and the Skeletons fall!" the man wielding the Morningstar roared out, "FOR LA GRAMONT! FIGHT!"

"HURRAH!" five lancers slammed their pikes into the chest of a Crypt Fiend, pushing the giant monstrosity back on the ground where it flailed its limbs in agony.

"FOR THE SCOURGE! EMBRACE THE COLD!" Henrietta screamed as ice spikes shattered the ribcage of an incoming horse, sending the knight to fall in a heap on the ground, before frost covered its body —the pose of a scared man trying to flee forever impressed in the ice.

Holding on to his reins, Depardieu gripped at the axe sticking out from the body of a slain guard and lifted himself back on the back of his horse.

"Yah! Yah!" he yelled to the horse, spurring it across the field. He slammed the axe's side against the neck of a Necromancer, and as the man fell so too did a horde of skeletons. "FOR LA GRAMONT!"

The horse neighed loudly once more as he gripped tightly on the axe with both hands. A blob of acid sailed past him, a Ghoul jumped to grip at his chest, but the blunt side of the axe scattered him in a pile of bones.

"FIGHT MEN! HAVE FAITH!" screams and yells echoed as corpses began to rain from the sky.

"Embrace the Scourge," Louise muttered, pointing her sword towards the man with the axe. "DEATH COIL!"

The sickly bolt of green flew through the air, soaring past the clashes of the battlefield as it hit home. The man fell from his horse, his armour dented from the force of the impact.

The screams of bravery died, changed in shrieks of fear. Louise laughed. To cut the head of the snake was to remove its heart too. "RUN FOR YOUR LIVES!" a scared noble screamed, his wand trembling in his hands as he barely brought up a shield of ground around himself, which the Crypt Fiends wore out with their acidic spit.

"AH! STAY BACK STAY—"

His screams died with the crunching sounds of the Crypt Fiends feasting. Louise gleefully walked forward. It would soon be over. La Gramont would fall beneath this sky!

"Master," Louis spoke crisply. "The enemy has broken the siege of Tristania."

"What of the La Vallière Holdings?" Louise muttered as she gripped the incoming blade of a sword with her gauntleted hand, _before snapping it in half_, as if it were nothing more than a twig.

The first man who opened the doors of the Cathedral screamed.

"RUN! THEY'RE…"

His voice died in his throat, as he looked at the carnage, and the horde of skeletons that stared back at him.

Necromancers stood in front of the altar, and laughing madly they bellowed.

"_Tremble before the Scourge."_

The skeletal hordes charged out, crushing the man who had opened the doors, pouring in the field and surrounding from the back the few survivors. Swords clashed and sliced. Shields stood battered and yet unyielding. The water kept on falling, as a hundred men became fifty.

Fifty became twenty.

Dragons fell from the skies, their wings ripped out.

Nobles dropped in scattered limbs, signs of giant fangs on their bloodied chests.

The blade of Steelmourne sang, drenched in the blood of hundreds. Then, at last, _none remained_.

"Where is the Queen?" Louise snarled. "Where is the Queen!?"

"Ah…ahahah…" the wheezed out laughter was unmistakeable. Louise spun with her eyes wide as she watched once more something impossible happen. Depardieu stood, his armour dented and bloodied. Holding on to his axe, blood fell from his forearm.

"The Queen is safe, heathen," he hissed. "The Queen is safe from your grasp, blasphemer," he wheezed out. "You will _never_ find her."

"La Gramont has secret passages in the Cathedral, doesn't it?" Louise retorted, slowly walking forward as the undead hordes divided, to let her pass through. She removed her helm then, as her eyes stared darkly at those of Depardieu. "If she went there, it might be weeks before we find her."

Her eyes shone of a deep blue light, as she brought her right hand forward. "Serve me, Commoner, and I will spare your life. Serve the Scourge, serve the Founder's true faith, and you will _earn_ your redemption."

"Never!" Depardieu barked out, firmly grasping his axe. "I shall fear no evil, for in his hands I pledge my soul. I shall fear no enemy, for in his light I bask my spirit. I shall fear no death, for to him my immortal soul shall fly. Founder Brimir, _guide my hand!" _

Depardieu ran towards Louise then, screaming at the top of his lungs as he swept the axe against the woman's extended hand. Steelmourne came up, slamming against the steel of the enemy. Sparks flew in the air, as the man's assault continued. Louise took a step back, then another.

Screaming madly, without reason or logic, Depardieu poured all of his spirit in that incessant stream of attacks. If only he could wound her. If only he could kill her. If only he had the power to do so. If only he had the strength to do so.

Louise growled, as the attacks grew stronger and faster with each subsequent step back she took.

_**Wield no doubt in your heart. Wield no fear. Wield no weakness**_**.**

Steelmourne sang, and with that, Depardieu stopped pushing her back.

"My name is Louise Françoise le Blanc de la Vallière," she whispered, clenching the sword. "I am the Founder's Chosen, his Death Knight and his Scourge's herald. I will _not_ falter… I will _not_ go back… I will _**never**_ look back, _**ever**_ again."

Louise screamed then, as she pushed her entire body forward, her shoulder crashing against the man's chestplate and pulling him backwards a few _metres_ from the strength of the blow.

Depardieu _flew_ in the air then for a brief instant, before falling on the ground and coughing out as sharp pain stabbed through his entire body. Louise's eyes were dark and cold, as she brought Steelmourne's tip to rest as the base of the man's chin.

"I gave you a chance," she whispered. "I gave you more than one a chance to surrender…but you refused. You asked for this. You could have surrendered, I would have made your death quick and painless," she slammed her foot down on his arm, shattering the bone as Depardieu screamed. "Now you will suffer. **Faithless coward**."

Depardieu's screams rose in the air, as Henrietta watched the scene happen with apathy.

"**Tristain will be reborn!"** Louise screamed, Steelmourne rising up to unleash the last blow. "**And I'll be twice the Queen Marianne was! **_**GLORY. TO. THE. SCOURGE**_**!" **

The blade came down then, and the rain soared away, the sheer pressure of magic that flew in the air around Louise's form astonishing. Henrietta closed her eyes. The Necromancers _kneeled_. The Ghouls snarled, the Crypt Fiends bellowed…

And beneath the dark raining sky…

_La Gramont fell_.

**Author's notes.**

**Seems to be a weather/time issue. No rain or beach today and Shade is okay.**

**I **_**knew**_** the beach was out to kill me. Now I have the proof.**

**I suggest listening to Audiomachine-Uprising when reading the battle scenes (that and 'the last immortal')**


	15. The Drums of War

An Acolyte of Zero

Chapter Fifteen

Cattleya held her hands on her lap, her eyes softly gazing at the stern face of her older sister. Eleanor was standing on a horse next to her carriage, trying to put up her best air. Fifty guards, a bit too much for her tastes, surrounded the carriage. Eleanor had insisted. 'The safest place to be during the war is close to the troops or in the main camp, Cattleya.' She was parroting mother's words, but she couldn't fault her for it.

She was scared, just like her.

The news that the Academy had fallen, that the country was deeply involved in a war against the heretics spread like wildfire through the troops, taking in any news that came from the refugees and those who escaped the most gruesome battles.

Talks of undead monstrosities, of corpses rising from their graves and giant spiders able to rend a man apart in a few seconds were all that the soldiers talked to during their trip towards the Capital.

When she had been young, she had visited the Capital once. The place exploded with life, with people going around smiling and lights of every type. Mother had held her hand tightly —as if afraid she'd run away and get lost— and they had taken a small trip to the side of their official visit.

That was one of the reasons she loved her mother. She had still been kind back then, back before she had to put on a cold and stern gaze whenever they were in private.

The carriage stopped abruptly. Eleanor frowned.

"Stay inside, Cattleya," her older sister said.

They had left the mansion and, as mother had instructed, begun levying the troops while heading towards the Capital. Tristain could levy for war fourteen thousands of troops from the countryside —as long as the nobles did their job properly.

Unfortunately, none did except her mother.

Training the serfs, the commoners, was something many nobles didn't do for fear of revolts. Mother didn't care for that, because she followed strict but fair rulings. The commoners of her land weren't mistreated, and as everyone received a fair deal, there was little risk of revolts.

The lands of her mother were among the widest, literally taking in the entire border of Tristain with Germania. By themselves, they counted at least a fourth of the entire army. La Gramont for comparison, while seat of the Gramont family and with its navy, had no more than maybe a twentieth.

"It's just black ground," she heard her sister say, returning to her side. "Proceed. We'll reach _Jehenne_ before the night comes. Viscount Joacquin will—"

"AH!" a scream came from the rear guard, as suddenly Eleanor tugged on the reins of her horse and spun. Cattleya brought her head outside to watch, and her eyes widened as a giant monstrosity emerged from the very ground.

A spider like none before stood there, as tall as a mounted knight and with too many eyes to count.

"Stay in the carriage!" Eleanor barked, before kicking the sides of her horse and moving to the back of the carriage, her wand thrust out.

"For the Spider Kingdom," the Crypt Fiend clicked quietly. "The Scourge has come. Surrender and you will be—

Rock lances appeared in the air as Eleanor chanted, piercing through the eyes of the beast who screeched in agony before writhing on the ground, spraying green blood.

Eleanor exhaled slowly.

"We'll be going back to the main camp now," she whispered. "I doubt _Jehenne_ is still standing."

Cattleya grimaced, her eyes down. "Sister…you think mother's words…"

"I don't know Cattleya," Eleanor replied. "I can only pray to Brimir she is wrong."

"Mother is seldom wrong…"

"For once, I hope she is."

_The Scourge_

The Scourge would obey.

Grimly watched the Ghouls pour through the dead forests of the once prosperous city of _Jehenne_. To his right stood Manican, while to his left was Ajax. Both, just like him, had changed their names.

Being a Lich, feeding upon magic, obeying the will of the Lich King and serving the Scourge…it gave him a purpose far higher than simply going after that tramp of a Zerbst.

His skeletal appearance didn't even bother him any longer. It brought fear in the mind of his enemies, and the ice of Northrend was stronger than even his own line spells.

He was the _Coldbringer_. Manican was the _Heartless_ and Ajax had taken on the name of _The Zealous._

"Coldbringer," Heartless whispered, "We must reinforce our defences. Our forward scout is dead. They will be coming soon."

"The Zealous could do that job far better," Ajax retorted.

"Stop using the third person while talking about yourself. It's annoying and grates on my skull," Coldbringer hissed. "Prep the towers, increase the Crypts and upgrade the Necropolis. We must hold as long as we can."

"Who returned to life and made you Lich King?" Zealous angrily snapped back.

"Children, children, let it be," Heartless chided them both. "Each of you, take a position. Zealous can take the central line, since he believes he can do a better job at holding it. I will take the right flank and Coldbringer, you can have the left one."

"Don't take that condescending tone with me, Manican!" Coldbringer screeched. "I will serve the Lich King better!"

"No, I will!" Zealous retorted. "I get the central area! Where the biggest amount of warriors will pour through and probably where it will be a…" if his skull could blink, then Zealous' skull would have blinked in that instant.

"You bastard!" he hissed then to Heartless. "I can't believe you'd set me up like this."

"Then I'll take it," Heartless clacked its teeth. "It is not a problem…the biggest the battle, the biggest the honour for the Scourge."

"Masters," an Acolyte voice rang then. "We have completed preparations."

"Very well," Heartless acquiesced. "Everyone…to their Necropolis."

With a pale, green light, the three liches teleported away.

_Louise_

La Gramont burned in the night, as she watched it from the highest tower of the Academy. Her hands clenched against the stone guardrail as her gauntlets dug deeply into the stone. The fires soon turned greenish, as long columns of bronze and purple rose from the ground. The entire city began to tremble and hum, as it was Haunted for its raw materials. Atop the last circle, green water began to emerge as the Necropolis appeared upon the ruins of the Cathedral.

It was a spectacle to behold, and it took her breath away to simply stare at it.

"Master?" Louis said, appearing with slow steps in the archway of the balcony. "Is everything all right?"

"I told you to call me Louise," she said, slightly pissed.

"I'm sorry m…Louise," Louis replied quickly. "Is something the matter?"

"This," she slammed her gauntlet against the stone, before waving her arm to capture all of La Gramont. "Look at it _burn_. Look at them, my hordes, moving through the night towards the Capital. It doesn't feel real," she whispered. "None of this…feels real," she bit down on her lips.

"Louise," Louis whispered, moving closer. "What troubles you?"

"Mother…will certainly be at the Capital. She will know by now I'm the one behind all of this. I…I will never win. This will never be enough against her. She's the Heavy Wind…she can do _anything_. Alone, she's worth like an entire army, alone…she stood against a Germanian Invasion, holding a bridge for days…"

"Louise," Louis whispered, "You think yourself any less?"

"Louis," Louise whined, "How come you can't understand!? She's not only my mother! She's also Karin the Heavy Wind! She'll tear my army apart, then you, then me, and knowing her she'll insult me all the way through it! She'll denigrate me, pick up on every tiny mistake and insist on them like they're some sort of life-changing things!"

She chuckled darkly. "Once, I made her a drawing, you know? She said the pink wasn't right for the hair and she slashed it apart with magic. She said if I had the time to draw, then I certainly had the time to learn how to make my spells work."

Her gauntlet slammed against the stone once more. "I hate her, but…she's my mother. Shouldn't a child love his parents? Why can't she just…I don't know if I can even be there, fighting her."

"Master," Louis said then crisply, "Thousands lay slain around you. One more is no different."

"She can summon tornadoes!" Louise wailed, spinning around to face Louis with her face even paler than before. "She rides a Manticore! She's…she's all I will never be!"

"You wish to ride a Manticore?" Louis asked carefully.

"Y-No! That's not the point!"

"We found her, master!" a Necromancer bellowed from the courtyard. "She was hiding in a crypt, but the dead gave her away!" he cackled madly, as two skeletons carried in their arms Queen Marianne.

Next to her, Henrietta was already floating.

Louise clenched her fists. "Can I really do this?"

"Louise," Louis said, "I have the uttermost faith in you. Whatever your wish is, I will obey."

"Thanks Louis," Louise muttered with a small smile on her face. "You're a good friend."

She walked away from the balcony, putting back on her helm as she descended the stairways that would directly lead her in the courtyard.

When she arrived down, it was to watch the Queen held at 'staff' point by the Necromancers, with Henrietta floating harmlessly nearby.

Louise stopped in front of the Queen, and looked at her with calm for the first time, without the heavy downpour to prevent sight.

Queen Marianne looked considerably older than before, her entire frame covered in dust and grime. Her dress was in tatters, and she clenched her hands viciously the more her gaze landed on Henrietta…or what the Princess had become.

"So what will it be, heretic?" Marianne said, trying to sound tough. Her voice naturally betrayed her, quavering and half-cracked as it was.

Louise gripped on Steelmourne's handle. "The time has come for you to renounce your throne."

"Oh? Really?" Marianne raised an eyebrow, before briskly adding. "Not to you certainly…and not to whatever monster you made out of my poor Henrietta's flesh!"

"The Princess is ready to abdicate in my favour," Louise remarked. "I'm sure you'll agree I'm a more…living pretender than her."

Henrietta just floated up and down, hissing and clicking every now and then.

"Why not just kill me and be done with it?" Marianne growled.

"I do need legitimacy for the throne," Louise retorted. "I am the Founder's Chosen, my powers are those of the Void, thus I am the one who should sit on the throne. Only the heirs of the Founder may sit upon it, and I have proof of being such a mage. Hence, the throne is mine by right. The rest of the nobles will fold really quickly if I were to be legitimately placed on the throne, hence the need for this charade."

"I would never leave the throne in the hands of a blasphemous heretic such as you!" Marianne screamed, "I'd rather die a thousand times!"

"Oh well, we'll get to it," Louise acquiesced. "We will be heading for the capital next. I'm sure the nobles amassing there will enjoy seeing you."

Louise turned. "Bring her to a private room. Make sure she doesn't escape. I have plans for her," then Louise smiled. "Whether you are alive or not is of no consequence for the powers of the Scourge, so…feel free to kill yourself, if that is your decision."

She brought up her gauntleted hand and roared. "_ONWARDS, TO TRISTANIA_!"

The Academy lurched then, floating away. Beneath it, her army marched to war.

_Rancis De Gramont_

Firing upon the strange constructions was a matter of moments. Tearing them apart from afar with the knights was even easier. There had been a few casualties at first, what with overly eager youths, but after they had understood that even a single hit was fatal, they had learned to avoid the enemy's range.

It was actually a surprise how they could have lost so much terrain against these heretics. Then again, he was standing on a ship, sending waves of cannonballs down at the enemy from the safety of distance. They weren't even trying to fight back —actually, what unsettled him was that he had been told there were hundreds of the towers, yet all he saw was but a few dozen.

The pale green lights that emanated from some of them were strange too, because when it appeared the tower stopped firing. He wasn't going to look a gifted horse in the mouth, and the cleaning was going well anyway.

In the city, the buildings broke apart. Why the Duchess insisted on having clear lanes of view from the royal palace, he could not understand. Still, he knew that when Karin came up with some sort of plan, it generally worked.

They had been together in the Manticore groups after all —with Centurion and Barkus de Grandple. Ah, those were the times…

His thoughts drifted back to the present as the cannons unleashed another devastating salvo on different constructions, which all burst up in flames and exploded them outwardly in a display of strange heretical green glyphs and moaning of souls as they ascended in the sky.

"I pray that you may find peace in the embrace of the Founder," he whispered as he watched those ghastly pale blue spirits disappear in the air. He really hoped they found salvation, rather than endless torment.

"Sick freaks the heretics," the helmsman of the Flagship —his ship— said then in a colloquial tone. "To enslave souls in that way…like those damn elves, you think they eat souls too, chief?"

"I don't know about that," La Gramont replied. "How are we with windstones?"

"The Wind Mages are on the double. We can return to La Gramont for resupplying and to deliver the refugees."

An eagle found its way towards him in that moment, and Rancis sucked in air sharply as he broke the seal and began to read the letter.

"I don't think we'll be delivering any refugees any time soon, Gascon."

"Uh? Why not, chief?"

"The Duchess insists we link up with the reinforcements from her lands."

"She isn't expecting us to piggyback them all back here, right?" Gascon asked with his eyes wide. "Sure, we can hold a hundred or two per ship, but that's like being a bunch of sardines and…"

"No, by the tone used, she just wants us to smoothly escort her daughters and as many nobles as we can back to Tristania as soon as possible."

"Ah… the usual privileges of nobles then," Gascon spat to the side as he grumbled a light string of curses.

"You know I'm a noble too, Gascon," Rancis sweat dropped.

"Yeah chief, but you're an a'right noble."

"Arright?"

"All right."

"I know everything is all right, Gascon," Rancis retorted.

"Uh? Sure thing, chief."

"Make way for the La Vallière lands," Rancis sighed. If only Gascon wasn't one of the few good helmsmen of flying ships Tristain could vaunt of…

_Louis_

The Capital's siege broke apart with ease after the ships arrived. He looked at the map, displaying the totality of Halkeginia, and then at the more precise one with only Tristain shown. The plan he had envisioned was actually simple.

If the army marched back towards the Capital, while the Lich held the line against their reinforcements, then they'd be able to smash through the city with ease.

The fall of the La Vallière lands would come later.

The Scourge's true strength lay in a single, seemingly insignificant, thing. There was no need to conquer the land. There was no need to conquer the people. It seemed trivial, but even a small opposing force could eventually wither down an army with constant attacks and hit and run tactics…like Sylvanas Windrunner had done repeatedly.

The Scourge didn't need living and breathing people, but corpses. Any man killed was one more minion for the Scourge. The minion had no free will, no need to think, and no instinct to rebel. Their armies were not only those they summoned, but also those they took from the enemies' own.

Everything however now hinged on a simple thing.

The Liches _had_ to hold the line. If they didn't hold, then the reinforcements would probably even the odds with the army bolstered by La Gramont. The Scourge could not lose its momentum. The Crypts worked day and night to summon forth troops, but even they could not work miracles.

The lack of a food limit wasn't simply a sweet deal. It had its negative side as well by the way resources dwindled down with summoning and the way they poured in too slowly.

Then there was another unfair thing: the enemy had his units already summoned. At any moment, thousands of troops could come down on their heads and tear them apart.

The Scourge was mighty…but they didn't have those numbers.

Louise stepped inside the room a moment later, having changed from her armour into a more comfortable dress —Arthas always slept in his armour, so it was something new…but he supposed it wasn't against protocol.

"Louis?" she said, walking slowly closer to the maps. "What is the situation?"

He closed his eyes, and slowly he began to filter through the System Alerts.

"The siege of Tristania is broken. I have ordered what few Crypt Fiends there were to burrow and wait our return. The enemy forces are not repairing the gates, so we will have a way in."

"Straight into their firing lines," Louise bitterly muttered. "It's mother's favourite tactic…as long as the enemy has an easy way to pass through, he'll ignore the risks of it being a bottleneck. That's how she held the bridge between Germania and Tristain."

"If we had Zeppelins, such a thing wouldn't be a problem," Louis remarked. "We could simply come in from everywhere at once."

"We could harass them with the Gargoyles," she replied. "But…" her finger tapped gently on the map. "How long till we reach the Capital?"

"If the speed holds, in four days...but our army will be there by the end of the third."

"When they build a Necropolis, I'll link up with it," Louise grumbled. "I actually wonder why we can't move the troops the same way."

"That goes against protocol, Louise."

She huffed, before taking a seat. She fidgeted for a moment, her eyes downcast on the map without actually looking at them. She bit her lips, before finally blurting out. "Can I ask you a question?"

"I live to obey," Louis replied calmly.

"Do you have any family?"

Louis looked at her for a long minute —that could have been an hour by how long time seemed to stretch in that silence— and then shook his head slowly.

"No…longer, Louise."

"What happened to them?"

She mentally winced. She really had the grace of a sledgehammer.

"They died," he replied briskly, "Of the Plague."

"Oh…I'm sorry," she meekly said.

"There is no need," Louis replied, waving his hand in dismissal. "They died because they were too weak to accept the gift of the Scourge. I, on the other hand, was strong enough."

"The Plague…the Scourge brought it?" she swallowed nervously.

"Of course, master," Louis said.

"And you serve the Scourge?"

"It was for the best. The Scourge is inevitable, Louise. It cannot be halted and it cannot be stopped. It is so strong it can defy even Death itself. The Scourge will rule the world of Azeroth, whether the pathetic forces that oppose the Lich King know it or not."

Louise stood up from her chair with a thoughtful gaze, before turning towards the nearby wall with a giant tapestry hanging from it —one ransacked from the capital, without a doubt.

Founder Brimir was depicted holding his wand and slamming powerful void magic against the elves, surrounded by a cohort of heroes.

"No one can stand against the Scourge?" she asked once more quietly, her voice half-cracked.

"No one, master," Louis said.

"The elves survived though."

Louis frowned. "Of course, but that was because they hid…and their capital, Quel'Thalas…I was there when it was destroyed. The Sunwell was torn asunder, to enable the resurrection of Kel'Thuzad."

Louise nodded with her eyes now closed. She could imagine the city.

White, ivory towers, standing tall beyond imagination with golden spires at their top entered her thoughts. A placid air from the trees, the wind's gentle caress on her skin, the quiet murmur of water flowing from a beautifully carved well where the light of the sun fell and shone brightly...it all came to her in a single instant.

Then the Scourge arrived, and her eyes abruptly opened once more just as the first of the elves screamed.

"I…I saw it," she whispered. "It was beautiful…" she croaked out.

Whether she was referring to the Scourge or to the Sunwell however…

_She didn't know_.

_Arthas Menethil_

"_**Your heart... its incessant drumming disgusts me. I will silence it, as I did my own."**_

He whispered, as frost fell from the sky in pure icy crystals. His gaze went to the harsh cold ice of Northrend, his hands clenched firmly upon Frostmourne.

"_**Let this be your first lesson."**_ He murmured, as the wind picked up. _**"I will show you the justice of the grave…and the true meaning of fear."**_

Then he turned, letting his mantle flap against the harsh cold winds of Northrend. His armour clanked as his heavy boots trudged upon the icy floor.

"_Master__**,"**_ Kel'Thuzad whispered. "_Adventurers are at Angrathar, the Wrathgate."_

"_**It's begun…"**_

With those words, Arthas walked.

Behind him, the Scourge followed.

**Author's notes**

**A bit of Arthas.**


	16. The Cold War

An Acolyte of Zero

Chapter Sixteen

Coldbringer snarled.

His skeletal hands clenched furiously as a wave of frost slammed against the enemy's scout, one of the many that had been harassing his patience trying to find a way past his defences. His were perfect. Rows upon rows of Ziggurat stood blocking the path towards the main road.

Heartless' defence in comparison were meaningless. Only Crypt Fiends burrowed deep on the ground —sure, they made excellent scouts, but little more.

And what of 'The Zea-diot'? He was massing ghouls. Ghouls! Pathetic snivelling creatures unfit to rule.

He, at least, had _Necromancers_.

His flank was going to survive the longest; he had no doubt about it.

He watched thus the army coming from the horizon, his teeth clacking. Pitiful mortal fools, they probably believed in the strength of their flesh.

He would show them.

The moment their cannons roared, scattering cannonballs through the ground against the sides of his Ziggurats, he bellowed his command to the Meat Wagons. Corpses flew in the air, as the Necromancers' own magic worked to reanimate the skeletons contained within.

Half of the skeleton brought back held their usual shields and swords, but the other half…

The other half was coloured golden by the powerful magic inhabiting their corpses.

Like a massive armada of white and gold, the skeletons clacked as they charged forward.

The enemy's own army brought down their pikes and prepared to hold its ground, as the cannons fired grape shots that tore through the skeletons by the dozens.

He hissed and then floated down to join his men in war. The more he killed, the more powerful he became after all.

_Lord Vichy_

He was just a man.

Fire bellowed from the tip of his wand, as he twisted his body to fling the fireball forth. Behind him, arrows sailed in the air. Shields rose as claws ripped the flesh. Sparks became fire, and the ashen smell of burned corpses filled his nostrils.

The ground trembled as cannons broke the ground, spraying dirt and gravel. "FORWARD!" he bellowed. His mantle flapped with the symbol of his house. "Onwards!" his men were few, but they obeyed. He hadn't levied them all —he couldn't.

He was a minor noble, 'lord' in all but name. A meagre dot mage, with but a few fireballs to fling, was all he was. He knew his men by name, he knew their families and he knew their dreams and hopes. Jacque holding a battered shield was the son of a soldier escaped a Germanian camp of war. Augustus, to his right, was the smith. Jean behind him was the best man he knew to be trusted with a flintlock pistol.

Then there was Gasteau, Trombadour, Couteaux. There was Adrien, Fernand whose wife was labouring when he forced him to war…there were many others, and he _knew their names_.

He had but a small plot of land, not with many hands available, and all those that he could spare…he had. Many he couldn't. A few were too young for his taste —war shouldn't be fought with the young, for they were the hope for a better tomorrow.

He gagged as Gasteau actually managed to chop down the head of one of the undead monstrosities, before forcefully kicking the fiend's body against the one behind it. How many skeletons could a single man bring back? Too many to count.

There were so many. Yet he pushed forth, for he was not alone. They were a scouting party. A small group, charged with testing the enemy's strategies and defences. They were supposed to retreat on command, as soon as possible.

Thousands were behind them, and as long as they trudged on then there was…

It was the fireball he had begun chanting in that instant that saved his life.

The moment the fire burst to life at the tip of his wand, cold walls slammed throughout the field around him. The frost tried to creep up to him, but the flames kept it at bay.

He shuddered not from the frost that chilled his very bones, but from fear. The faces stilled in their expressions of his men, the people he knew, the people he cherished…they looked unscathed, but their bodies were frozen and…and an instant later, _they shattered into a thousand ice crystals_.

"Ah…" he whispered, as thick fog left his mouth.

The rattling of chains reached him, as his eyes moved upwards to stare at the monstrous skeleton emitting baleful teal vapours from his empty ribcage.

"I am Coldbringer," the thing clacked out, his arms extended. "_Embrace the cold_!"

"FIREBALL!" the tiny flame at the tip of his wand slammed into the chest of the lich, who growled as he floated a few steps backwards. "You," Vichy hissed. "YOU!"

Frost spears formed around the lich's body, floating gently. "I am Coldbringer, Lich of the Scourge," he cackled. "And soon, you will suffer through unimaginable pain for—"

A cannonball shattered through the monologue, exploding nearby as the neighs of horses charging in became deafening. Someone had probably given the order to retreat to the Scouting parties, and the cavalry had gone in to provide help. Yet all that Vichy could hear was the drumming of his heart and the rushing of his blood. He began to chant, ignoring the bolts of ice that scattered near him.

A mage could not move and chant at the same time.

So he did not move, even as ice spikes tore through his arms, his chest and his legs.

As the cavalry neared, Coldbringer closed the little distance that separated them, grabbing him by the neck. "You are a pitiful excuse of a mage," he clacked. "What makes you believe I'll let you finish the fireball?"

Vichy gurgled, cold devouring the heat of his body. He could feel his life coming less, but yet, yet he smiled.

He stuck his wand through the Lich's chest, and smiled bitterly.

"Because…I…didn't cast…fireball," light shone through the Lich's chest, and just as the undead made a grunt of perplexity…

The cannons roared as the signal reached them. Twenty cannons fired at the same time on the same position, letting the shots slam nearby and scaring the cavalry off. An unlucky knight was flung off his horse, his right leg no more.

Vichy's body snapped in half, as a cannon ball passed through him and slammed against the Lich. He smiled, as blood sprayed from his lower and upper half, now separated. He smiled as he fell on the ground.

He closed his eyes.

He was just a man, after all...and men died all the time in war.

Nevertheless, the important thing...was not to die in vain.

_Eleanor_

"So, the way is cleared for the army to march now?" Eleanor asked, eying warily the constructions at the horizon.

"Not completely, my lady," the man next to her spoke tugging on the reins of his horse, "We know nearly nothing of these foul blasphemous creatures, but judging by how Lord Vichy went down it appears some have a natural aversion to fire."

"And cannonballs," Eleanor replied dryly. "They are not pushing for the cannons."

"Their central flank appears largely ill-defended…it reeks," Viscount De Roix grumbled. "It reeks of a trap yet to spring. I cannot help but wonder how they managed to be a trouble."

"Maybe it was because the peasants did not have the benefits of armour or swords?" Eleanor replied sharply. "Look at those creatures," she gestured towards the Skeletons, "They do not feel pain or fatigue, and they do not bleed. A peasant would have no hope."

"The tales spoke of a dark knight," De Roix commented. "I wonder where he lies, so that I may meet him in battle."

"I would rather take care of the…" her eyes widened in disbelief. "Impossible."

"What, my lady?"

"Look there! The flank where Vichy fought, to the left! There is another wave of skeletons coming and…"

"It…It can't be," De Roix's throat felt parched. Among the skeletons that numbered in the hundreds, snarling and walking their way on the ground while ramming their swords against their shields and clacking their teeth, a figure floated with cold gusts of wind emerging from its ribcage.

The same creature that Vichy had destroyed was there once more, as if it had defied death itself.

"They're necromancers, but this…is it really possible they can defy death?" Eleanor's question echoed in the air unanswered, as De Roix gestured for a messenger.

"Tell the scouting groups to retreat for now!"

The messenger nodded, before taking out a trumpet from his coat and trotting off towards the edges of the battlefield.

"We've seen enough of their fighting," De Roix muttered, "An enemy that cannot die…frightening, but not unstoppable."

"Their numbers are not that many," Eleanor murmured. "We could push through with ease."

"Aye, but what of the aftermath?" De Roix retorted. "They might have the central flank weak on purpose to close in on us, that's a really basic manoeuvre…but not ineffective."

"They lack on mages," Eleanor grumbled. "We could easily tear down their defences and pass by."

"A small group could," De Roix acquiesced, "But our army counts in the thousands. We would be flanked by the other sides and lose far too many. It is best to face them in battle here and now. One less army for the enemy means one less trouble to face further down the road."

The trumpet's shrill notes rung in the air, as the cavalry groups trotted away, soon followed by the small tightknit groups of local minor lords of the La Vallière estates.

"Aim the cannons!" De Roix bellowed. "Lances to the front, keep those shields high! Let the cannons soften them up!"

The roar of the cannons soon increased, as the heavy metal balls soared through the battlefield, bringing up clouds of gravel and dirt.

_Heartless_

"I am starting to hate those things," the Lich muttered, warily standing quite a bit away from the frontlines. "And I hate the living even more now," he grumbled. "Why can't they just charge? My perfectly planned ambush will go to waste like this," the creature of undeath and frost sighed. "Maybe I made it too obvious? Should probably stock up a few Ghouls myself…or maybe Acolytes? Uhm…I never remembered cannons being this much of a pain."

Then again, he had never been on the receiving end of one.

"If only…" his hollow cavities settled on his surroundings. "Well, why not?"

Soon, he clacked an order to an Acolyte. The man obeyed promptly, calling forth a building's ethereal form that soon began appearing from the Great Beyond.

The noise of leathery wings rose in the air, as The 'Zea-diot' from his side began to summon Gargoyles. Personally, he abhorred the things.

The moment the construction was completed, Heartless smiled.

The Slaughterhouse began to spin its giant wheel.

The Obsidian Statue after all…had just been _unlocked_.

They came out one after the other, crackling electricity upon their staffs held in their rock arms. Gifts of Ner'Zhul himself, the statues were the banner holders of all undead armies. The essence of the Blight freely poured from their own bodies, as their massive forms gave him exactly what he needed to pull off a gambit to take care of the annoying cannons.

"What are you trying to pull, Heartless?" Coldbringer hissed through the mental link that tied them together.

"Don't try to think too much about it, I'm trying to do something smart, which unfortunately eludes your mental capacities," he replied with a dry chuckle. The five Obsidian statues began to float forth. "Order your troops towards the centre. Keep them behind the statues. We'll _break_ them, rather than wait for them to break us."

Coldbringer's right hand twitched. The Necromancers began to move. "For your own sake, Heartless, I pray you succeed."

The fact he held back half of his forces meant nothing —everyone always had a backup plan.

"Why isn't Zeadiot answering now?"

"He has come up with a plan," Coldbringer remarked, as he watched the Gargoyles fly high above the battlefield, like vultures awaiting prey. For a single instant, Coldbringer thought he had gone mad.

Then that moment passed, and his bony hand went up to cover the red glint that now was his 'sight' within his eye-cavities. "I am _not_ seeing this."

Heartless turned his head to stare in the same direction as Coldbringer was, and then began to massage his skull's temples.

"I knew he was an idiot in life, but I hoped undeath would cure him of his _stupidity_."

"Apparently, it must be pathological," Coldbringer stated firmly.

Both Lich agreed on that, because there simply was no other reason for what their eyes were seeing. Zealous wasn't simply _summoning_ gargoyles. He was using them to _fly_.

"I'm the King of the World ahahaha!" Zealous cackled madly, as he spread his arms wide. "Here comes the Lich-Zeppelin!"

"It would be extremely counterproductive to order the gargoyles to let him go," Heartless stated then simply.

"Extremely counterproductive," Coldbringer acquiesced.

The next moment there was a scream, a dull thud, and a hole on the ground the size of a Lich.

"That was just not fair guys!" Zealous snarled as he reappeared from an Altar of Darkness. "I was so close to perfecting my aerial assault!"

"Imagine how stupid we look to the enemy because of him," Coldbringer muttered. "I'm ashamed to be in the same Scourge as him."

Heartless froze. He turned his gaze towards the Obsidian Statues...or what little remained of them after cannon shots and magic poured down on them and the troops behind.

"YOU BASTARDS DISTRACTED ME!" he screeched. "I can't believe it! We're all on the same side here!"

Coldbringer smiled. "The weak must be pruned after all."

"I'll give you weak," Heartless snarled. "I'll show you!"

Zealous remained quiet as he floated back to his side of the battlefield. His idea needed a bit more of preparation, but it was feasible. He was _sure_ of it.

_Louise_

"Louis?" Louise said yawning slightly as she entered the 'tactical' room filled with maps. Her armour clanked noisily, attracting the attention of everyone else in the room. The Acolyte was there, humming thoughtfully over a few parchments. In a corner, a few Necromancers held on to their staffs, muttering in a strange tongue. Henrietta wasn't present in the room.

The Death Knight neared her acolyte, before asking. "Do you ever sleep?"

"Mas— Louise," he corrected himself. "I do not," he said. "I and a few Acolytes managed to bring forth a few plague cauldrons from the Great Beyond. They will spread the Plague faster through the lands. The grain especially will be an optimal vessel."

"Can't the Academy go faster?" Louise groaned. "Like, with an upgrade?"

"Master, if you wish to link with the nearest Necropolis and begin your attack early…"

"No," she shook her head. "I know my mother. I will need everything I have to take her down. Even if I were to wither her down…"

"Does something trouble you yet again, master?" Louis asked then, frowning slightly.

"I hear _voices_ in my head," she grumbled. "Arrogant as they are, I think the three dumb bone men are doing their job."

"Liches are the pinnacle of power, Louise," Louis remarked. "It is not arrogance, if they are conscious of their powers."

"Keep on forming the gargoyles," Louise deadpanned. "We'll need them to take down the cannons. While we're at it, try and _launch_ the ghouls against them _using a meat wagon_."

"Ah," the Acolyte nervously looked sideways. "It might unconventionally work?"

"Don't…Don't just defend them!" she stuttered out. "Couldn't you choose someone smarter to resurrect as a Lich!? Those three are barely passable as Ghouls!"

"Well, master," Louis said, "The smarter the creature, the more difficult it is to control," he acquiesced. "Sylvanas managed to escape the grasp of the Ner'zhul and free herself and her followers during a temporary moment of weakness of the Lich King."

"_A quick death...like the one you gave me? No. You're going to suffer as I did. Thanks to my arrow, you can't even run. Give my regards to hell, you son of a bitch."_

Louise stumbled for a moment, her footing lost. Her left hand shot to grasp at the table's side, as she exhaled slowly to catch her breath.

"Master?"

Her eyes locked with the worried ones of Louis, and then she averted them the next. "It's nothing," she blurted out. "I'm just…tired," she finished lamely.

"Did you not rest properly?"

"Whenever I try it's either my mother or someone else that pops in," she shuddered. "And I can feel this presence, dark and soul rending just in the corner of my mind…it feels like if I were to let my guard down I'd lose something forever."

"Soon you will see that your worry are misplaced, Louise," Louis said, walking closer to offer a gentle pat on the girl's shoulder pads. She didn't feel it, but she appreciated the gesture.

"You will see that nothing is more powerful than the Scourge, we who defy Death itself. The times where you were bullied or considered the Zero have ended, Louise." Louis said crisply. "Now is the time of the Queen of the Scourge, Louise de La Vallière."

Louise smiled. "Yes," she closed her eyes, smugness filling her face. "I will be Queen."

From beyond the door, Henrietta's eyes narrowed in disgust.

"_**Let this be your first lesson," **_she whispered, before turning to leave. "_**I will show you the justice of the grave…and the true meaning of fear."**_

Her eyes shone of a pale blue for a second, before returning to their normal foreboding colour of light green. She looked around for a moment, as if lost in thought, before heading off towards the lower levels of the dungeons.

_Viscount De Roix_

The sound of drums reverberated through the air of the battlefield. Trumpets sang as steel-clad boots slammed with precision on the ground.

"They're trying to push through!" he heard a boy with a spyglass exclaim.

He clenched the reins of his horse. The night was soon to come, and yet those things never seemed to stop assaulting their positions. Had it been a human army, a living one, the corpses would have already piled high enough to form walls.

As it was, he gave the order to the archers in the backlines, who fired upon the incoming Gargoyles and hordes with all the precision they could muster.

"Why aren't we attacking yet?" Eleanor de La Vallière asked him once more, her face scowling. "This seems like a wasteful amount of time."

"My lady, as I said—"

"It's enough De Roix," she snapped back, interrupting him. "We are pushing through, now. We do not have time to waste."

"Now?" he asked back, his voice half-cracked. The hordes were coming in that instant. If they just waited until they were spent, then they'd certainly reach further than the middle ground…

"Now," she acquiesced. "Sound the charge."

De Roix nodded firmly, before setting his horse off to a trot. The animal neighed loudly, arching its head in an effort to spurn him from going further forward, but he nonetheless reached for the trumpet at his side. He took a deep breath, looking warily at the cannons and the men in charge of them.

"Move to grape shots," he said quietly. The crew of the cannon nodded and passed the order out.

He sounded the trumpet. Two sharp shrills came from the instrument, as the soldiers all around him clenched their hands on their lances and, with fear etched on their faces, began to advance.

"_**CHARGE**_! _FOR TRISTAIN! FOR THE QUEEN_!"

War cries rose through the entire frontline.

A lancer charged ahead slightly, pulling out of formation to thrust his staff against a Ghoul. The beast yelped, but soon a lightning ball erupted from the floating statue's arms, tearing through the soldier's chestplate and sending him on the ground bleeding.

The claws of a ghoul tore through the leg of a man, its crooked teeth immediately closing in on the living's neck. A Necromancer bellowed arcane words, and the corpse rose to become _two_ _skeletons_.

A sphere of gold departed the hands of one of the two undead, burning the closest guard as the second's sword came down on the side of the next one.

The formation scattered as the lances dropped; the swords unsheathed, the living began to fight.

What De Roix feared however was not the middle ground, but the silence of the enemy's catapults.

He held his wand and began to mutter an incantation, before thrusting the wooden stick forward. A torrent of water emerged from the tip, crashing into the chest of a Ghoul and sending it flying away. He carefully placed his wand back in his chest pocket, and then took out a small, silver-coated mace.

"Protect me from harm, oh merciful Founder," he croaked as he kicked the flanks of his horse.

"FOR BRIMIR!" he screamed then, mace held high.

The moment he charged ahead, slamming the mace right and left against the skulls of the skeletons, the rest of the platoon assigned to him followed his lead. The wind lashed against his face, the screams ringed in his ears. The mace glinted in the light…

Then the ground itself trembled and shook, as his horse neighed. The beast jumped with its hooves up in the air, before falling on the side, dismounting him by force. The first blob of acid melted the face of a lancer near him, while the dozen or more sliced through his men. The spiders charged ahead, skittering and showing their stingers.

Fangs gleamed with poison, as De Roix's eyes glazed over. His horse stood back up with a loud neigh, and trotted away leaving him on the ground, his right leg broken.

He didn't even feel pain anymore.

It was then that he heard it, the sounds of the creatures' catapults. _Hundreds_ of corpses fell from the skies, exploding in billowing clouds of red mist and innards.

A Ghoul settled on him, snarling and charging at his prone form. He snarled back, thrusting the mace forward and crushing the creature's face. The skeletal corpse fell to his side, unmoving. He gagged from the putrid stench. Around him, he could hear the screams of his men dying.

He had ordered to load the grape shots, hadn't he?

He chuckled nervously. He didn't have the guts to pull it off like Vichy had done before. He was a coward, but he wanted to live.

De Roix took out his wand and began to chant. Water flowed from the tip into his wound, slowly mending and resetting the bone. He'd probably be dry of willpower until the next day, but if he managed to at least limp back to safety…

He would not die on some blasphemous ground against some necromancer heathen! He snarled in frustration as he wobbled back up. The moment he did, his gaze went to the human lines. Why was Mademoiselle de la Vallière barking at the cannons' crews?

Wait, there were torches now brought closer to the extremity of the cannons.

He began to sweat as he limped as fast as he could forward. "Wait! Wait! I'm still—"

_Then the cannons fired._

**Author's notes**

**Coordination and communication is the key to winning battles. Had a stroll through Wikipedia. At most, Tristain is able to field 14.000 troops (if we take the European-equivalent and one of the first battles against the Dutch). Of those, the majority are either serfs or light armoured pikemen/lancemen. A good 10000 to say. If we take into account the low number of 'nobles', we can see that at most there can be what, 300/500 mages.**

**The merchant class/low nobility is the horsemen. We can count 1000 of those to be on the safe side, and what remains are archers. Muskets and flintlock pistols are few and 'special'. (Albion army had 70000 troops, of those only a few had pistols)**

**My numbers could be off, which is why **_**I'm not **_**placing 'numbers' in the field.**


	17. The Civil War of the Scourge

An Acolyte of Zero

Chapter Seventeen

The iron boots made the ground tremble. The guardsmen charged with bellowing screams of fury.

Hundreds of men slammed their shields as their momentum carried them through the Ghouls' lines and in the midst of the carnage with the skeletons.

Shields bashed skulls, swords shattered, bones snapped. Hisses and clicks growled, as nails and teeth bit down. Blood sprayed as corpses fell from the ground, swords gleamed bloodied from the crimson blood of the living. The cavalry charged, the horses neighing and frothing from their mouths. Lances slammed against skeletal ribs, shattering as flails and maces were unsheathed.

A rain of arrows fell upon the Necromancers, a few dropped their staffs and rolled behind the Obsidian Statues, where the arrows hit and ricocheted harmlessly on the ground. Bullets chipped the stone statues, as pale teal energy and bright green Blight suffused their surroundings.

Wounds closed upon the wounded Necromancers, the arrows popping out and the bleeding ceasing.

"The shadow hungers," one snarled, arching his hand upwards as twin skeletons rose from a nearby corpse. "Forward! For the Scourge!" he screamed as the skeletons clacked and obeyed.

Heartless waited as the cavalry of the humans finished its turning, and in that instant he gave his own order.

The Crypt Fiends hissed, spitting out their acid missiles. The horsemen' first line fell when their very steeds lost their legs to the acidic puddles that the barrage formed, sending the knights to crash on the ground and roll as they were stampeded upon by the ones behind them. The surviving horsemen overrun within minutes the spider monstrosities, swords clashing down on their carapaces, lances embedding deeply upon their chests.

The mages' division walked in next, bringing forth fireballs that rolled through the fields, exploding with titanic strength. Wind blades sliced the bones, rock spears emerged from the very ground. Water columns pushed back the lightest of units, while the nobles patched up the wounded to the best of their abilities.

The central flank proved to be the weakest, as the cavalry passed through the Crypt Fiends slashing them apart, screaming bellowing roars of war and faith. Heartless watched the humans arrive and brought both arms forward.

"EMBRACE. THE. COLD!" waves of ice erupted from the ground, slamming against the incoming humans who could not stop their horses in time. Many died, impaled upon the icy formations; fireballs rained down to melt a way through. The first swordsman that passed the breach perished with his chest pierced by an ice lance. The second and the third breach opened in the ice, as a few flintlock soldiers chose to run around the obstacle rather than through.

The first bullets ricocheted against the chains tied to his arms, and Heartless knew he had lost. He began to prepare the spell to teleport away, when suddenly…

Suddenly he stilled, his icy blue eyes emitting frost.

Sharp cackling words escaped his skull, both skeletal arms twitching as mist formed and began to spiral around his body. The moment he was done, the moment the ice shield formed around his person, he thrust himself forward without care for his salvation.

Let his soul be of use to Ner'zhul for once!

"**FOR NER'ZHUL**!" he bellowed. The first man who brought his sword down against him turned to ice, as the cold winds of Northrend tore apart the heat from his body. The second tried to jump at him, only to freeze in mid-air and crash down like a statue of ice, breaking apart in minuscule fragments. An archer fired, and the winds deflected the blow.

"Let me leave," his mind whispered. "Let me run."

His body did not obey. "No, don't go closer to the living. Escape! Escape!" his brain screamed, but his body refused to listen. "I don't want to die!"

_**The Scourge has no need for weaklings.**_

A cold voice whispered, and he knew his time among the powerful had ended. He really wanted to cry, in that instant. He had never been special before.

He had never been powerful, never been more than a hopeful 'dot'.

Yet now, here he was, killing and mowing down men —commoners and nobles alike— and yet…and yet his sentence was served, his time done.

He saw the giant axe twirl in mid-air, before crashing down with a powerful strength against his ribcage, shattering it to pieces. His skeletal body felt limp, as his spine shattered. His soul shuddered and pain flared throughout his entire being, as he screamed a haunting shriek of agony…

Then he was gone.

_Forever_.

_Coldbringer_

The Acolytes were not responding.

The Ziggurats were being unsummoned. The Necropolis too, and his teeth clacked in frustration. The cannons were beyond their ranges, and he knew that…but still, to declare it lost like this…they could still hold the line!

The central flank broke, and he _shuddered_. He had heard the scream, the pain…the despair of… _**assimilated**_, _**devoured**_. That was what Heartless suffered for his failure. He looked at the enemy lines. Surely, if he took away their cannons, he would not suffer the same fate!?

He had no choice but to try.

His entire force moved forth, with its skeletal guards and its Meat Wagons, strengthened by the Necromancers' spells and the Blighted ground.

There was no other choice after all.

He repeated that to his mind as the cannons roared with grape shots the size of fists, reducing to brittle bones the skeletal guards. Chunks of stone exploded from the Obsidian Statues, their unholy presence holding his soul steadfast. "Gifts of Ner'Zhul, pride of the Scourge," he whispered in awe as an Obsidian Statue crumpled, "Banner of the Undead," another exploded, a third an enemy mage smashed on the ground with an earth mallet. "_**EMBRACE. THE. END**_!"

A Necromancer's spell brought a corpse near the cannons up as twin skeletons, only for the lancers to make short work of them. The Meat Wagons —the few remaining— fired one last volley of corpses that embedded on the pikes or fell short of their objective.

The Necromancers were out of mana.

But he was not out of Necromancers.

The first sacrificed brought him enough to send a cold nova of frost through the lancers, breaking their formation. His skeletal hands clawed the innards of a man out of its body, as ice lances twisted and departed from his entire body. Sickening cracks echoed as the cannons near him froze solid, before shattering beyond redemption.

"I am Coldbringer, Lich of the Scourge!" he bellowed as he dashed for the next pair of cannons, cold winds soaring near him to freeze those who moved too close.

His right arm extended with an ice lance, his body twisted to prepare for yet another frost nova, when one of the crews of the cannons sharply spun the weapon against him.

He stared down at the mouth of the lit cannon and his skull's cavities widened in disbelief.

The cannonball exploded towards him. He barely managed to float to the side, avoiding the brunt of the damage…but his shoulder and his right arm shattered for the impact.

"My arm!" he screeched, "My beautiful unholy arm!" he yelled. "You will pay for this!"

A warhammer flung its head against his ribcage. A giant rock lance pierced his back, entrapping him. Lightning crackled down from the skies, vaporizing his body…and he screamed as his soul burned, he screamed as his powers dispersed, _**devoured**_ by the unseen mind that forced his forward.

_The Zealous_

Gargoyles flew and spun in whirlwinds of claws and wings, sharp teeth and talons rent the flesh and the faces, their shrieks scaring the living. Their bloodlust palpable, the Zealous forced himself forth.

There was no retreat, only death.

"_**I WILL CRUSH YOU!**_" he snarled, bringing his right hand forth as the ghouls' charge poured through, their claws bashing against the shields of the human swordsmen. The shields held, the assault stilled...and the Zealous understood, in that single instant, that he had _lost_.

Arrows rained down by the thousands, tearing the wings, piercing the eyes and the chests of the gargoyles that plummeted down to the ground. Sharp shrieks turned to moans and whimpers on the ground. A claw lashed out, a man screamed as a ghoul tore his leg.

A sword sliced a head of a wounded gargoyle, blood sprayed over the man's armour. Ice departed from Zealous' fingertips, carving deep holes in the chests of the men. The humans surrounded the ghouls one by one, slicing and tearing them to bits beyond repair.

Bullets broke the skulls of the ghouls, bits of bones and blood sprayed over the Lich's chest as he stumbled forward, clawing on the ground with his lower half gone —cleaved neatly by a broadsword.

"Ner'zhul…will…come," he hissed as he clawed forward. A noble dismounted from his horse, boots clacking against the ground as he trudged forward.

Vapours of cold and chilly wind escaped the lich's skull, as he gazed at the blond haired woman with sharp features who was now looking down at him.

"Who commands your armies, monster!?" she yelled, her wand pointed at him.

He cackled, as he felt his soul torn apart by the ravaging famine of the Beyond.

"Who…commands…the Scourge?" he hissed, "I…tell…father…" he croaked, "I'm…not…a _**monster**_…but…the King…_is_…" his soul broke, snapping in half as pain flared through his entire body. He screamed as the magic holding him together escaped his bones, agony flared through his entire being, beyond what his mind could possibly comprehend…and then, in less than the blink of an eye, his body _turned to dust_.

_Eleanor_

"What do you mean we have to stop!?" she screeched towards the second in command after De Roix. "The road is clear ahead of us!"

"My lady," Count Dupugnac said stiffly, "The army needs a break to treat the wounded, we lost many men and we need to reorganize the survivors."

"How long?" she hissed out.

"At the very least a week, my lady, the wounds…some are extremely aggravating. The water mages are doing all they can, but they are few and stretched thin."

"One week is too much, Dupugnac!" she slammed her fists on the table. "If mother was here, she'd send you all running with your wounds!"

"If milady's mother were here," Dupugnac retorted hotly, "She would not have forced a murderous charge like that against an enemy who was deeply entrenched! She would have taken to the frontlines, and she would have made sure the casualties were low!"

Eleanor's eyes narrowed. "Remember who you're speaking to!"

"I know that very well, _mademoiselle_!" the last part was inflexed, as an insult, "I owe fealty to your mother and at the moment, _you are not my liege yet, girl! Nor would I obey that command even if you were!_ There is a thing known as _noblesse oblige_ something you should know very well!"

"Count," Eleanor snarled. "Get out of my sight."

The count clicked its boots together, before giving his back to her and leaving. The moment he left the tent, she collapsed on the nearby chair, a hand to her mouth and feeling sicker than ever.

Tears menaced to come down from the corner of her eyes, as she closed her eyes strongly. Nobody would dare speak like that to mother, but to her? Why was everyone treating her like a child, like some sort of spoiled brat? She was the finest researcher of magic Halkeginia had ever seen.

Her sister entered the tent a few minutes later, a sad smile on her face as she settled next to her. "Big sister Eleanor?"

"Go 'way," she mumbled, her hands covering her face.

"That's not how a proper lady should be," Cattleya chided her gently. "Come on now, big sister, please?"

She slowly removed her hands from her face. She probably looked horrible, but as long as there was but Cattleya in the tent, it was fine.

Her younger sister took out a handkerchief from the breast pocket of her robes, before slowly using it to dry the tears that without a doubt streaked down her face.

"Big sister Eleanor, come on now, no crying anymore."

"I wish mother were here," she croaked out. "She'd know what to do."

"I'm sure everything is going to be all right now," Cattleya said with a small smile. "Then we'll find Louise and we'll have some tea at the mansion, in the gazebo near the lake. We'll convince even mother to participate, and then we'll go rowing together under the sun…" her younger sister's words came out in a low, murmured voice.

"Cattleya…"

"And everything will be fine," Cattleya whispered, "And this will just be a bad moment, and mother's words will be wrong for once and," tears prickled in the corner of her eyes, "And Louise…she'll…she'll be there, and she won't be…"

"Cattleya," Eleanor hugged her sister tightly. "It's fine…really," she whispered. In the end, she was the one doing the consoling, but then again she was the oldest sister: it was her duty. "Louise will be there too."

"Really?"

"Yes."

Cattleya smiled then, a smile that dug a fierce scorching dagger through Eleanor's heart. "Thank you, Big sister."

Eleanor had no doubt about it. If mother's words turned out true, if Louise had really been among the enemy, among this necromantic cult of blasphemers that dabbled in forbidden magic…then Cattleya would not survive such news.

"Chibi-Louise," she muttered to herself the moment Cattleya left. "_**Why**_?"

_Louise_

_**Punish failure. Reward success.**_

She clenched her hands against the handle of Steelmourne. Whispers of dark foreboding chills echoed in her ears. _**You will no longer need to sacrifice for the throne.**_

She ground her teeth as she stood up, moving the cape away from her face. Her boots of metal resounded across the small room, as she neared the throne.

"Louise?" her sister's voice —why was Cattleya on the throne— reached her ears, who were dull to her tones of worry and pity and…and grief and agony and…and _more_.

"_**Close your eyes**_," she said with venom, Steelmourne in hand, the blade poised to her sister's neck, _**"Now that mine… are open."**_

There was a lot of blood spraying out of such a slender neck. Her left hand gripped it, crushing the windpipe and breaking the spine. The death came quickly; the eyes glazed over in a second. The last breath escaped from her sister's lips, but her soul...her soul did not depart.

It whispered from her blade now.

Like all those, all those she had killed before.

_**MURDERER.**_

_**BLASPHEMER.**_

_**HERETIC.**_

_**MONSTER.**_

"_**Y-You! You scum, heathen! Necro…Necromancer! May your soul rot in hell!"**_

"_**I…Louise, please…if you ever valued our friendship look around! Do you think this is the Founder's will!? He never spoke of this! He never used these…these abominations!"**_

"_**Treacherous demon worshipper! Go back from where you came, Necromancer!"**_

"_**What madness…what madness are you suffering from!? YOU CORRUPTED MY DAUGHTER WITH YOUR BLASPHEMOUS DEMONIC MAGIC! HOW CAN YOU CALL YOURSELF FAITHFUL TO THE FOUNDER!?"**_

She screamed as she woke up, her body wracked in convulsions. Jumping out of her bed's sheets, she dashed across the cold floor towards the washbasin and the empty chamber pot, in which she puked what little her stomach still held.

"Ah, ah…" she trembled; her very hands barely grasped the sides of the pot. "Gah…" she shook her head, strongly, "Why…" she croaked out, coughing and spitting the vomit's taste out of her mouth. "Why must you torture me like this?"

In the corner of the room, Steelmourne remained silent.

"Will you make the voices go away, if I wield you?"

Her heart drummed once.

"No," she averted her eyes, taking a calming deep breath. "I…"

Forgotten whispers muttered across the room as a light sheen of fog erupted from Steelmourne's hilt. The cavities of the horned skull burned a crimson red as the fog slowly began to assume form.

Louise brought her hands to her ears, closing her eyes and pushing her back against the wall, curling her body into a form as small as possible.

"_Louise."_

"It's just a dream, it's just dream," she whimpered. "You're not real, not real. No, not real," she shook her head.

"_LOUISE!"_

"GO AWAY!" she screeched. "GO AWAY! STAY AWAY! DISAPPEAR! BE GONE! _YOU'RE. NOT. REAL!_"

"_Louise Françoise…"_

"Don't call me that," she pleaded, tears coming down her cheeks. "Please don't call me that."

"_My friend Louise…"_

"I'm not worthy, not worthy of that title," she croaked, her eyes still shut.

"_While the King sleeps, I can talk. Please…you must fight this. You must!"_

"No, no, no, I'm not fighting the Founder's Faith," she murmured. "The Faith is everything. I have faith, I am right. This is a test. I know this is a test. I'm loyal to the Scourge! You hear me, Founder Brimir!? I'm loyal to…"

"_Louise Françoise! Don't make me come over there! Come on! You cannot believe! You must fight back! Just as I am trapped in this sword, so you too are trapped in the powers of the Scourge…but you can break free! You just need to break what prevents this!"_

"W-What is it?" she whispered, cracking an eye open to take in a blurry form.

"_The Acolyte…Louis…kill him. He is the source of all of this. Kill him, and everything will—"_

"You're not Henrietta, are you?" she said calmly, her eyes turning to ice as she stood once more. The form of the ghostly Henrietta stilled for a second, before morphing into those of a Lich.

"Impressive," the ghostly lich spoke with an intrigued tone. "Irrelevant, but impressive."

"Who are you?" she asked, her hands clenched to fists and her right leg forward, as if to punch the ghost in the face.

"I? I am Kel'Thuzad, _your curiosity will be the death of you_…" he hissed then. "Do not try to enter my mind, or to tug at the Scourge for answers it will not yield to one such as you," he added.

She frowned. What was he talking about? She was just…

"Curious, were you not?" Kel'Thuzad acquiesced, moving both of his skeletal hands together to let his fingers meet.

"I will take my leave for now," the ghostly appearance said then. "But know this," he added as his vapour-like body slowly began to be consumed by Steelmourne. "Those who are loyal will receive eternal rewards, those who betray…_shall suffer forever_."

With that, silence descended in the room once more.

Louise hiccupped once, as a single tear rolled down her cheek and fell from her chin.

She looked at the bed, and then at Steelmourne.

In the end…she left her rooms, leaving her sword behind.

She needed to think. She needed to decide…

The final battle was coming, closer and closer by every single second that passed.

Soon…

Soon Tristania would lay bare in front of her, for her and the Scourge to battle for.

She just had to defeat her mother.

She just had to kill her sisters.

She just had to ignore her very soul screaming at her to stop, to cease, to try a different approach.

She just had to…

Louise screamed in the middle of the night, yelling obscenities towards the moon as the Gargoyles took the cue and began to screech of their own accord.

She huffed and panted, after half an hour of cursing, only to realize someone watched her. She spun around, coming face to face with Henrietta —the corporeal version, at least.

"Is something the matter?" she asked, cocking her head to the side.

"No, everything's fine," Louise muttered under her breath.

"Oh, good," Henrietta replied.

The Lich then smiled. Louise's eyes opened wide as a set of thoughts entered her mind that did not belong to her, but to…

"_**FROST NOVA!"**_

**Author's notes**

**Cliffhanger. Frost-NovaHanger. Frosty hanger?**


	18. The Fallen

An Acolyte of Zero

Chapter Eighteen

La Rochelle was peaceful. The people talked, laughed, and walked the streets. Passing the border had been surprisingly easy, and nothing had stood in their way. The ragged group composed of the Chef Marteau, the Maid Siesta, Guiche de Gramont, Montmorency and Malicorne had reached the city guided by Miss Longueville in the middle of the day.

It was blearily shocking to watch such an acute difference between the situation they had lived through, the horrors of passing through the forest, and…and these people of La Rochelle happily living without a care in the world.

It was jarring, and it felt extremely wrong.

Then Malicorne _disappeared_. One moment, he was standing in the middle of their ragged group —with the guards of the city nearing them out of curiosity and concern, and the next he was gone, in thin air.

It was as if he had actually managed to cast an Illusion spell, which was preposterous since it was a triangle spell. Yet when the guards neared them, and one began to speak, they were a number short.

"Halt in the name of Lord Rochelle! Identify yourself!"

"We're from Tristain's Magic Academy," Longueville spoke crisply. "We…were supposed to have a trip to la Rochelle for educational purposes in the Wind Stones used for floating ships, but we were attacked along the way by bandits during the night and…" she averted her gaze, "The students are still in a state of shock," she murmured.

"Ah," the guard's eyes softened up, as he took in the scared face of Montmorency first. The girl was pale, still cradling her wand and looking around nervously. "I see. Go and call the healers, send them to the barracks" he turned to his colleague, who nodded. "If you'll follow me, we'll get you something warm to drink and maybe something solid to eat."

Longueville nodded, grimacing. "Thank you, you are so very kind."

"It's our duty as protectors of the peace of La Rochelle," the guard waved his hand in dismissal. "This way then, my ladies, my lords," and then the guard began to walk them by.

Guiche remained quiet. Where had Malicorne disappeared? Grounding his teeth in frustration, he kept his gaze low. He knew why Miss Longueville had lied. If Gallia knew of Tristain's weak state of civil war, then the other countries would barge in for 'pacification' purposes…and then make the country a puppet government.

While he understood the theory and the politics behind that, he couldn't keep his heart to it. Then again, everything around here was just so peaceful. How could they not know of war? Was there some sort of trouble with their minds!?

It was pondering like this, that Guiche completely missed the disappearance of Montmorency until he reached the barracks.

_Tabitha_

Germania wasn't closer than Gallia, but she did not say a word as she made Sylphid fly across the border. Kirche's arms tightly held her in a firm and trembling embrace around her midsection, and she could feel the tears running down the red-haired woman's cheeks drop on her head, even after hours of travel.

Sylphid began to lose quote after a few more miles of travel, as her tired wings could no longer flap properly. "Descent," she stated simply, letting her familiar know she could lower herself on the ground. Her dragon gave a meek 'kyu' of acceptance, before flapping itself down.

"Tabitha?" Kirche mumbled, "We're still far."

"Sylphid is tired," she replied evenly. The moment the dragon landed, Tabitha slid down and dropped with her back against the cerulean familiar. "I'm tired."

"All right," Kirche mumbled, slowly trying to dismount and ending up slipping, before falling on the ground with a dull thud. "Ahi," she grumbled, remaining down on her back, "My back hurts."

"Not long now," Tabitha whispered.

"We could have gone to your family first, you know," Kirche stated simply. "Gallia was closer no matter which way you want to put it."

"No," Tabitha replied. "Had to see you safe," she took out a book from her cloak's folds and carefully pushed her face beneath it to hide her embarrassment.

"Aw, that's so sweet," Kirche chuckled, her voice half-tired. "You know, a part of me…can't help but believe it's my fault."

Tabitha flipped a page.

"If…If I had helped her out, if I had done anything…then maybe she wouldn't have snapped like that."

"Couldn't know," Tabitha replied.

"I doubt anyone could," Kirche mumbled. "I mean, it's not like any kid you tease suddenly turns out a Necromancer after a few days."

"Indeed," Tabitha turned the page of her book again.

"And who could have seriously believed Louise would turn out like that? Really! She was the Zero! The last of the class, the one who couldn't even cast a proper spell!" Yet, the inkling of doubt that it could have been her fault remained, even as she fell asleep beneath the open sky. She'd warn her family first and foremost. Then, when the might of Germania would finally come down on Louise's so called army, she'd have a good laugh.

There was simply no way for Louise to win. In the end, she would just fall harder down from her pedestal.

_Louise_

Ice spikes rose from the very ground, as twisted forms of crystals poured from the skies. She ducked, feeling the cold embrace of chilling winds on her skin. She snarled, twisting the necromantic energies of the Scourge to her own will as the Unholy Aura strengthened her muscles and reflexes.

"Frost Nova!" Henrietta's magic came down unbidden and unstopped, crashing against the ground and conjuring magnificent and horrific forms of ice. A hurricane of frozen water twirled with crystal-like blades, slicing on its path towards Louise.

"Why are you doing this!?" Louise screamed as she ran to the side, jumping the final stretch as a blade of ice cut her deeply on the back. "Gah! Henrietta! Why!?"

"_**WHY!?**_" she screeched, her eyes flaming with pale blue fires. "You _dare_ to ask me why!? Look at what you did to me, Louise! Look and tell me if friends do this to one another!"

Henrietta snapped her wrist to the left, and the hurricane of ice and frost changed its path. "I will make you pay! My powers are stronger now, stronger than ever before! I serve the Lich King willingly! My master is none other than Ner'Zhul! To him I bow with no concerns, my soul is his…but I will never serve you!"

"That's not…you're not like that! You weren't like that before!" Louise yelled, watching the impending doom of ice and frost reach for her.

In that moment, two arms grabbed her tightly and pushed her away. She rolled on the ground, hissing in pain before her gaze settled on the one who had pushed her. Her eyes widened in disbelief as she watched the form of Louis half encased in ice, from his lower back downwards.

"Master," he coughed, blood seeping out of his mouth.

"Louis?" she whispered. The ice that encased the lower side of her familiar slowly began to move forward. "Ehi, stop it Henrietta," she mumbled, her eyes wide as she stared at her once friend. "I said to stop, didn't I?" she mumbled again.

"Weaknesses must be purged," Henrietta stated. "_Embrace. The. End_." Her tone filled with mirth as her pale hands closed, while the ice encased Louis completely.

"_**I TOLD YOU TO STOP!**_" Louise snarled, standing back up with fury shining from her eyes. The ground trembled and began to crack. "STOP! NOW! IT'S AN ORDER!"

"I do not take orders from weaklings," Henrietta replied. "You are unfit to be Queen, Louise. Go back to being the Zero…isn't that what suits you best?"

Louise closed her eyes, her face down as her hands clenched into fists. A cold breeze made her nightgown flutter, as she stilled.

"No one from the Scourge will aid you, Louise," Henrietta said smoothly. "You are alone here, and soon, you will join your familiar in eternal suffering."

Louise exhaled. The ground itself broke apart as a fiery hellish steed emerged from the ground. Her hand shot forth to the horse's satchel, and from there she took out her wand. "Don't you dare move, Henrietta," Louise hissed, her horse neighing loudly to her side.

"Louise wishes to try and fight me in a duel?" Henrietta snorted, as a mace of ice formed in her fingertips. "Very well then," the pale lich laughed maniacally. "Let's see it then, Louise. Do you have what it takes?"

Louise _flung_ her wand towards Henrietta, and then charged forth as the attack surprised the girl. Screaming to the top of her lungs, Louise closed the distance between her and her old friend, slamming her right fist straight against the Lich's face.

Bones cracked as the punch hit, before the ice mace shattered against Louise's shoulder. She grabbed Henrietta's head, and pulled her down to let her knee shatter the girl's face. Bits of bones sprayed out, as Louise twisted and growled in rage.

Holding Henrietta's neck in an arm lock, Louise's left hand went down with sickening precision against the Lich's spine. A cold wave of frost soon departed from Henrietta's body, flinging Louise away to crash on the ground.

"My face…" Henrietta growled as she slowly stood back up, her living face cracking apart like the mask of a ceramic doll. "MY BEAUTIFUL FACE!"

Louise spat blood to the side, slowly standing back up.

She cracked her neck, throwing her right fist against her left one as icicles shattered away from her body. Her nightgown tore, but she didn't care much for modesty in that instant.

Louise charged ahead once more, deftly jumping to avoid a wall of ice spears forming below her very feet. Her hair flew in the wind as time slowed down, Henrietta's own left arm coming up to protect her body from the strength of the next blow.

Louise's right arm met her Henrietta's left, and with a horrifying cracking noise the limb tore apart cleanly. Henrietta screeched as Louise pushed her shoulder forth, slamming into the Princess' ribcage.

"You never won against me in brawls, Henrietta," Louise snarled. "You never won!" her left leg came up, pushing back the Lich and sending her to sprawl on the ground. Henrietta screamed, as a gust of cold, chill-rending wind blasted against Louise emerging from the princess' palms.

Louise's arms moved into a cross position, as the Death Knight neared slowly, one foot at the time.

"Stay back!" Henrietta screamed. "Stay back!"

The clouds crackled with electricity. Thunder streaked the skies. Rain poured down from the heavens, turning into icy snowflakes.

A tempest of ice and death flew around the two contestants, blades of ice forming all around them as Henrietta laughed. A sharp gesture of the Lich's hands, and the blades pierced through Louise's entire body. Blood sprayed on the ground, as frost began to cover the entire form of Louise.

"I won!" Henrietta cackled, "I won!"

Louise fell down on one knee.

"You're just a failure, Louise! Nothing more than a failure!" Henrietta stood back up, wobbling forth. She slowly conjured an ice staff, the tip of which became as sharp as that of a lance. She twirled the staff, letting the icy tip inches away from Louise's face.

"Any last words, Louise Françoise?" she asked the girl mockingly.

"Yes," Louise hissed in pain. "You were my first friend, Henrietta…and so I'm sorry."

"Sentimentalism will get you nowhere, Louise Françoise." Henrietta hissed, "I will not have mercy."

Louise just exhaled. "I know…but I wasn't saying sorry for that," the next instant, Louise's entire frame twisted as if broken apart, before the girl's right arm shot forward, hand first, to impale itself on Henrietta's ice staff.

Her left hand, instead, thrust the tip of her wand straight into Henrietta's ribcage.

"There's only one thing I'm good at, Henrietta," Louise muttered, "And at point-blank…I cannot miss."

"Ah," Henrietta's eyes softened, "I see," she whispered in understanding. "I…"

"**FIREBALL**!" Louise roared, as the wand's tip ignited, before covering in a brilliant white light the entire frame of Henrietta.

The explosion rumbled through the entire Academy, as Louise flung herself backwards. Her body hit the ground, before she began to roll and finally crash against the wall of the main tower. The snow kept on falling softly, as her eyes looked at the crater where once Henrietta had stood.

The ice broke away from the ground, as Louis' body unfroze and the Acolyte slowly began to wobble itself back on his feet.

"Death Coil," Louise whispered softly, her fingertips pointed at him. The sickly green bolt flew in the air, before landing straight against Louis' chest. She chuckled softly to herself as Louis stood fully back up, before dashing to her side and kneeling next to her.

"Louise!"

"Ehi, Louis?" she muttered. "Am I in such a bad state, that you're worried?"

His look of surprise soon gave way to his normal composure. "Master, you need to rest."

"I can feel my wounds closing as we speak, Louis," she mumbled. "I'm really no longer human, am I?" she added softly, looking at her right hand. Where once a wound had been, bleeding and covered in frost, now unblemished skin reappeared. "And my powers…stronger…I suppose in the end it was inevitable."

"Master?"

"Louis, I am going to ask a very selfish thing of you," she said, her eyes half-closed. "But I want you to do it."

"Thy will be done," Louis replied seriously.

"Carve my heart out, please," Louise pleaded. "It hurts. It hurts so much…I feel so much pain now…My heart bleeds…I…I feel so much pain," tears began to fall down Louise's eyes. In the silence of the courtyard, interrupted only by the strong cold breeze and the falling snow that lingered barely, Louise's words rung out cracked.

Louis' right hand clenched around his dagger.

His duty was to obey.

His will was to act.

His orders were to follow.

…

The dagger plunged deeply, its blade cracking apart under the strength applied. Louise emitted a single sharp scream, before suddenly stilling and opening her eyes.

The blade deeply plunged into the ground next to her, as Louis' breathing came out ragged, his body trembling.

"I can't," he whispered. "I can't," he shook his head. "I'm sorry master, I'm sorry, I can't…I can't…I can't. _**I can't. Not again, I can't."**_

"Ah…ahahah…" Louise began to chuckle. "Ahahahahahaha!" her laughter rose in intensity, as her last wounds closed. Slowly she stood, before clasping with both of her hands Louis' shoulders and hoisting him back up. "Very well then!" she laughed aloud, "Be this my price then, be this pain my punishment. Let my heart bleed! Let this pain always remind me of this moment…" she shook her head firmly, "Let…let me stay like this for a while, please?"

She whimpered then, her face buried into the robes of Louis.

In that moment, in that single, fleeting instant, Louis' eyes widened.

"_What's there to cry now, pumpkin?"_

"_My knee hurts…"_

_Whimpers._

_Warmth._

_The smell of rot filling his nostrils._

He returned to the courtyard when Louise detached herself, before giving a sharp whistle to attract her steed's attention. She mounted her horse then, before loudly proclaiming.

"Before, I didn't have the resolve," she said, firmly tugging on the reins of her horse. "But now I do," she added, looking sharply ahead. "Now, finally, I do."

Her eyes looked to the rain and the ice crystals falling down, and amidst the thunder and the lightning bolts she bellowed strongly.

"_I AM LOUISE FRANCOISE LE BLANC DE LA VALLIERE!_ A slaughterer of men, women and children! I am a monster born out of the Void's will! You all will follow me and me alone across this land, and I shall kill all who dare oppose me!" then she whispered, as rain fell down her face, down her cheeks like tears. "May I never be forgiven for the sins I have committed…"

She kicked the flanks of her horse, as the animal neighed and brought its hooves up. "I am a sinner…but now, now I carve my own path. With me, Louis! With me, you all!" the Gargoyles screeched as Ghouls began to appear, followed by the Necromancers and the rest of her army. "From henceforth, we are no longer Scourge! From here on after, for as long as I breathe and command you all…"

She closed her eyes, pushing against the erupting presence clawing at the back of her mind. Her hands clenched so tightly, blood began to drip once more from her palms.

"We will be known as the…"

The strength that battered against her mind intensified, but she snarled it away. She pushed it back, way back, away from her very thoughts and brain.

"_The fallen_," she murmured as her mind finally found peace.

"We have fallen, out of the grace of the lord, out of the command of the Lich King. We have fallen, and now…now from the depths of our abyss, from the deepest pits of hell itself, we will rise once more. We are the Fallen! But we will not bow our heads and submit! We will carve our path and if the Founder himself punished us with this curse, if he delivered onto us this blasphemy, then we will take the fight to him, to his powers, to his strength!"

She screamed that loudly, as the windows of the tower broke apart, Steelmourne soaring through the air as Louise called the blade to her side. She gripped tightly on the handle, as her armour began to appear over her body.

"To Battle Now, my brethren! Today I fought for our freedom! Tomorrow, we fight for Tristain! And afterwards, Romalia will fall! For The Fallen!"

"For the fallen!" a Necromancer bellowed.

"For the fallen!" another yelled.

"Fallen! Fallen!" the Acolytes echoed.

Louis watched the scene quietly, his right hand to his temples.

It had been just for an instant but…there had been something in the back of his mind —a feeling of…of something.

_Ice-Crown Citadel_

"_**You now stand upon the hallowed ground of the Scourge. The Light won't protect you here, paladin. Nothing will protect you..."**_

"_ARTHAS! I swore that I would see you dead and the Scourge dismantled! I'm going to finish what I started at Light's Hope."_

"_**You could've been my greatest champion, Fordring. A force of darkness that would wash over this world and deliver it into a new age of strife…but...that honor is no longer yours. Soon, I will have a new champion."**_

The Lich King laughed as he clasped Frostmourne tightly.

"_**In the end…you will all serve me."**_

Then the Lich King turned and _left_, ignoring the battle raging or the words yelled by HIghlord Tirion Fordring.

Kel'Thuzad stood thoughtfully by his side as he stepped inside the throne room, a content chuckle in his throat. "All proceed according to plans, my sire," he bowed deeply.

"_**Let her sacrifice everything, let her battle across horrors and the land itself. When the time comes for her to die, then she will understand…that she was following my footsteps all along."**_

The Lich King laughed dryly, as he watched with amusement the armies fighting at the gates through the eyes of his minions.

_**Let them come…let them climb these icy steps…let them arrive armed with courage in front of me…for in the end…Frostmourne… **_

_**Hungers.**_

**Author's notes**

***whistles innocently***

**Q: is Henrietta dead? **

**A: **_**Remember W3 mechanics**_**.**

**Logic behind the numbers:**

**Albion's Reconquista (As I was corrected) counted 40000 troops. Plus 30000 taken from the enemy. If, as said, the coalition was made of 60000 men, and we consider Bruxelle-Tristain capable of fielding 14000, and with Germania fielding the rest…(if, by a small margin)**

**We'd have a staggering 46000 troops for Germania. What does this mean? Take a look at the znt wiki map of Albion. If that tiny speck fields 40000 of 'rebels' then what of Germania? What of Gallia?**

**BUT! We are speaking of 'coalition' numbers. Hence, troops that can be 'delivered' for war purpose. Not 'full' armies. Tristania has a history of peace and weakness, hence we do not go further up than 14000 troops. **

**We can reasonably hence add **_**double**_** troops for the simple reason that the armies were made of serfs, nobles and the likes…and many remained on their lands.**

**Therefore, in defence, Germania has 92000 men. Albion instead probably held a 20000 (Loyalist) and 50000 (Reconquista) until the Loyalists were whittled down to only Newcastle and the Reconquista ended up with 40000 afterwards. **

**This is my logic behind the numbers. Which however is not explicated in-story because they are just that, 'assumptions'.**


	19. The Assault of Tristania

An Acolyte of Zero

Chapter Nineteen

Her mantle flapped strongly to the harsh and cold wind.

"My Queen, we have unlocked the Abomination at the Slaughterhouse," Louis spoke from behind her, his head low.

"Call me Louise," she replied, her voice betraying her annoyance. "And what are they?"

"They are the muscles of the Sc...Of the Fallen, Louise. Their strength is incomparable to that of a mere human, and their bulky frame makes them a much tougher unit than Ghouls or Skeletal warriors."

Louise turned, her eyes going past Louis' newfound appearance and towards the courtyard, where her steed waited for her. Louis' robes were no longer purple and black, but dark crimson. The colour of blood didn't suit him much, but it was the only dye they had in abundance up in the academy. How they had such dye was something she didn't want to pry on, and thus she walked past him.

"Begin descent!" she bellowed as she mounted on her steed.

"MEN!" she screamed as she unsheathed Steelmourne, the sword now silent in her hand. "We march to our final battleground!"

Staffs stomped the ground. Ghouls hissed and claws hit the cobblestone ground, forming sparks.

"When this will be over, we, the Fallen, shall rule over these lands!" she brought up her sword. "I promise you this! Help me win, and power, unquestionable and unfathomable power, will be ours! No Ner'zhul, no Lich King! We are the Fallen!"

"For the Fallen Queen!" an Acolyte roared, and soon the name spread through the ranks of the living among her men. The Gargoyles screeched as they flapped their wings, leaving their pedestals and the towers and spinning in circles above the army.

The clouds parted way, as thick grey smoke covered their vision. The Academy descended as a massive, pulsing thing of black smoke and thunder, green rain drizzled down upon the ground. The Gargoyles' eyes shone brightly as Louise thrust her sword forward.

"GARGOYLES, FORWARD! OPEN A PATH FOR THE FALLEN!"

The Gargoyles obeyed among screeches. Their powerful wings flapped, thrusting their bodies through the air and beneath the clouds. They emerged to a massive crater of a city, no longer filled with buildings but with tents. Arrows soared to meet their dives, but the Gargoyles broke into formations that scattered around. Screeching their wings shone green, before scythes of pure necromantic energies departed from their extremities.

Then they fell on the ground as massive rock constructs, their bulky frames crashing on the ground, smashing tents and people alike as swords, bullets and arrows ricocheted off their reinforced exteriors.

Then the Academy descended next, until it floated but a few miles from the ground. A pure beacon of green light pierced through the clouds, as the moans of the spirits tied to the towers of the floating building condensed into the central crystal of the main tower.

A ray of pure energy departed next slicing a line that split in half the city, forming a trench filled with unholy energies.

"ONWARDS! FOR THE FALLEN!" Louise's scream emerged from the drifting clouds of scattered debris, her horse charging and neighing loudly. Her unholy aura gave off a golden glint as the Ghouls followed her with maniacal devotion.

Steelmourne sliced the air, blood sprayed out of a headless body. A lance shattered against her breastplate, Louise twisted her body and thrust the sword through the man's chest, before pulling the blade out with a sickening squelch.

Skeletons rose, their swords and shields gleaming.

Corpses rained down from the skies, smashing the men.

Then, suddenly, the momentum was lost.

A strong whirlwind of air pushed through the lines of ghouls, scattering them in the sky and slicing them to dust. A Manticore knight, fully armoured and holding its wand, landed a few meters away from Louise.

The symbol of the La Vallière family fluttered in the knight's mantle. Louise clenched Steelmourne tightly.

"Louise," her mother spoke, crisply. Behind them, the sound of battle kept up. The ghouls attacked, the Necromancers summoned, the Meat Wagons flung their horrid contents. The Gargoyles lifted enemies in the air, to tear them apart, or flung scythes of energy against their bodies to cleave them.

Yet all that paled, all of that went unheard by Louise's ears as she concentrated on the woman in front of her.

"Mother," she replied frostily. "You can order your men to surrender, and all of this will end."

"You were thought dead," Karin stated plainly.

"I have defied death countless times now, mother," Louise retorted. "There is nothing beyond life, mother, did you know that? There is nothing but a great, empty, _eternal_, _cold_, _**uncaring**_, _**devastating**_ _**VOID**_ _**OF NOTHINGNESS**_!" she yelled out the last part, shuddering for air. "And I defied that fate. I will defy it countless times, for I will never bow my head to death, mother. I will not bow my head to you, to the Lich King, or to anyone else for what matters!"

"You think you can win, Louise? Against me?"

"I am no longer a failure, mother," Louise chuckled with glee. "Gramont has fallen! The Queen is my prisoner! I have crushed the Academy, its pupils are my slaves now in soul! I have Blighted the land and Scourged the living! I have Fallen from grace…but I have risen into something more! I AM THE QUEEN OF THE FALLEN," Steelmourne shone as Louise brought the sword down in an arc, to her side. "And _**Death Bows to Me**_."

There was a loud thud, as if something fleshy had just then touched the ground from a high fall. A massive and putrescent amalgam of corpses rose on its giant stubby legs, hooks and claws replacing his arms, his entrails visibly showing and covered in dark green miasma. His face was a devastating patchwork of horrendous stitches and disgusting features.

His stomach-churning reek was choking, and a green-brown haze surrounded it. His guts spilled from a jagged gap in his stomach, and flies buzzed about it, feasting. Three disproportionate, arm-like limbs emerged from his bloated body, two bearing bloody cleavers, and the other a thick chain with a hook on the end. His tongue was thick, round and dangling from between crooked, yellow teeth

Yet his voice came out wicked, filled with malice and maddened by murderous instincts.

"Us hear…and _**obey**_!"

With a feral snarl, the Abomination charged on its stubby legs, cleaving with its giant weapons _three_ men who had frozen in shock. Two more screamed as the curved hook pierced their stomachs like they were nothing more than bait for a fish, while another barely had the time to widen his eyes before the last limb came down to crush him to a pulp on the ground.

"What…"

Louise inwardly laughed at the word spoken by her mother. This was the first time she had seen her mother so surprised.

"Mother, mother dearest," Louise giggled. "Maybe you should rest? Close your eyes, mother. Close them forever, and it won't hurt, I'll make it quick and painless for you."

Karin's eyes snapped ferociously back on her, as she thrust out her wand and held it as she would a sword. The wand shone brightly, before Karin kicked the flanks of her Manticore who shot forwards, with its claws gripping on the ground.

Steelmourne came up just in time to parry a thrust from Karin's wand, as her Manticore's right paw instead went for her steed's own chest. Karin continued her path past her, letting her fall on the ground.

"I need a better mount," Louise grumbled as she stood back on her feet, clenching Steelmourne with both hands. "Something that bites back would be much appreciated, Louis."

"We do not yet have Frost Wyrms available, master," the voice of Louis came through. "Shall I proceed with the plan?"

"Do so," Louise replied, before jumping sideways while holding her sword up. Sparks soared in the air as she parried the blow of her mother's magically enhanced wand and avoided the swipe of her beast's claws.

"Do you know, mother!" Louise bellowed then, watching as her mother stilled. "What is the true might of a country? What is the true power of a nation?"

"The Crown, of course!" Karin yelled back.

"Ah, I know…I remember your Rule of Steel, mother! But you were wrong on that concern…" the Academy slowly floated down completely, its sides touching the ground as the towers shone. "The true power, the true might of a nation…it's not the crown, it's not the nobles…"

She smiled, twirling Steelmourne in her right hand.

"_BUT ITS PEOPLE!_" and like a massive wave, the Academy's gates opened completely to unleash what once had been the country people of Tristain.

The people now were no longer living, breathing men and women, but hordes upon hordes of zombies. As their limbs twitched and moved forwards, moans escaping their mouths, Louise smiled. "Plague Cauldrons, mother," Louise spoke. "They bring the plague in the very air and land," the moans grew as the zombies kept emerging.

"A country without its people," her eyes shone brightly of pure cerulean light, "Is no longer a country for the living, but for the dead!" and then she laughed as two abominations flanked her. "You have lost this country, mother! I SHALL BE QUEEN, whether you bow and die now, or live through unspeakable cruelty…that is your choice to make now!"

"What have you done, Louise…" Karin whispered out. "What have you become…"

"I am following the Rule of Steel, mother," Louise retorted, her eyes narrowing. "_The fault of your failures lies in no one else but in you_. Wasn't that the first one you taught me, mother? Well, here is my _**fault**_ mother! _I AM A VOID MAGE! THIS, THIS THAT YOU SEE, IS THE POWER OF BRIMIR'S CHOSEN!_" she laughed then, "Or, wait…here's my favourite one coming back to me right now! You told me once, and I will remember this forever and _ever…"_

Louise's eyes closed as she cracked a small bitter smile, before enunciating clearly.

"_Do not shame the La Vallière household by lying about your lack of effort at the Academy_." Louise laughed. "I bled from my eyes through the nights to memorize the spells."

She thrust her sword forward. "I painstakingly repeated, read, revised, took notes, queried, cast thousands of times the spells I needed to know. I failed, I always failed, but I never stopped trying. I really never did…" she exhaled. "But your eyes were never settled on me, were they? Eleanor was the oldest, Cattleya was frail and weak…I was just the spare of the spare to marry off, right?"

Louise shook her head. "Battlefields shouldn't be the place to hold monologues, I suppose," the girl smiled, cocking her head to the side. It was a sad and grief-filled smile.

"Then again…I suppose you'll tell me I'm a failure of a commander too now?"

Karin removed the iron mask of The Heavy Wind for a moment, her face stern and cold as she locked eyes with those of Louise.

"The Rule of Steel is clear on those who betray the crown…" she sucked air in sharply, as she spoke next. "For the sins committed against Tristain and the Crown, for the murder of the Crown Princess, the kidnapping of the Queen, the use of unholy and forbidden magical arts… for the crimes of anarchy, revolt and rebellion in the eyes of the Tristain's Royalty," she exhaled. "I hereby strike you out of the La Vallière family and solemnly swear to bring you to justice!" Karin then placed her mask back on, covering her face.

"You are no longer my daughter," Karin whispered, her voice dying in her trembling throat.

"You never were my mother," Louise retorted bitterly. Her hands then went to her own helm, kept at her side. With a single, swift movement, Louise placed the helm on her head.

She charged ahead, as the abominations followed her. Karin's wand twirled, wind blades slicing out in furious typhoons of death as they rent through the rotten meat of the undead creatures. Louise jumped on the back of one of her bodyguards, gripping on to its hook before the creature flung her forth. She swept her blade in mid-air, crashing it against her mother's wand.

The blades met and in mid-air, they clashed.

The burning cerulean eyes of Louise met with the dark ones of her mother's own. Louise's face showed her teeth, grounding furiously as she poured all of her strength in the blow. With a sharp move, Steelmourne began to slide across the wand. A slight flick and a gust of powerful wind flung Louise away.

She crashed on the ground again, watching as the second abomination snarled and brought down its massive cleavers on her mother's form, who's Manticore deftly avoided.

A Gargoyle screeched next to her, trying to swoop down on the beast. The Manticore flapped its wings and took to the air then.

Louise growled as she stood back up, running to grip at the Gargoyle's hind leg.

"UPWARDS!" she screamed furiously, as the beast yelped beneath her weight. A second and a third Gargoyle soon arrived, gripping on to her back and lifting her in the air.

The wind blew in her face, scattering her long pale hair. Rays of necromantic energy shot forth from the Academy, trying to take down Karin and her steed, as the two seemed to be flying towards it. She was probably trying to free the Queen…

"Louis! The Queen!"

"We have completed the preparations already, master."

"Very well," she retorted. "Very…well," she turned her head sharply back to the battlefield, and then whistled with all the strength she could muster.

The Necromancers nodded, slamming their staffs on the ground and starting to chant.

The Acolytes emerged, commencing their summoning. Structures of bone and death emerged from the ground once more, as Louise jumped down from the Gargoyle's holding her and onto the back of a Crypt Fiend. Snarling, atop the spider monstrosities, she thrust her sword forward.

"_**ONWARDS**_!"

The Crypt Fiend skittered across the ground with a speed beyond that of her steed, forcing her to hold tightly with her left hand on its carapace's creases, while her right one swung Steelmourne at the living enemies she could reach.

A horse neighed loudly then, as a hammer flew across the air to strike at the Crypt Fiend's face. Louise tightened her hold on the steed, and for once, she landed on her feet using the momentum to swing down once more against another guardsman. She spun twirling her sword, slicing a leg apart as the man fell on its back, before punching through the sides of a lancer and then twisting his ribcage out.

Her mantle billowed as her blade cleaved, her face a snarl, her mouth open in bellowing cries, she crossed through the battlefield like a fury of war, unstoppable.

A bullet slammed through her sides, a blonde woman holding a long musket.

A mace came down, parried by her Steelmourne as she punched the man straight in the face, crushing the skull and pushing through. Arrows fell on her position, but she grabbed a man and used him as a shield. She smiled as she felt each arrow impact against the soldier's back, before the living became a fresh corpse for the Fallen's army.

The Zombies reached the frontlines then, their attacks slow and easy to avoid. Blades sliced through their rotten limbs with ease, but their masses and their numbers simply went through. They felt no pain, so a sliced limb did not halt them. Bites and fists clashed against shields, five or six rotten corpses fighting against one of the living easily overpowered them.

It was as Louise spun once more, slicing the neck of a musketeer and watching his blood spray in the air, when it happened. A massive warhammer came crashing down against her, its entire head covered in silver. Steelmourne came up to parry the blow, and soon Louise's feet dragged themselves on the ground as the girl hissed from the effort.

Her eyes widened as she stared into the face of a man she thought dead.

"TO ARMS MY BROTHERS!" Captain Mordeau bellowed. "Justice will be served!" he hissed them, slamming his shoulder against her own.

Louise held her ground however, a wicked smile forming on her face.

"This time," she hissed back, "It will be my victory," and then she took a step forward, as Mordeau's feet dragged themselves on the ground leaving behind small trails. "You are only delaying the inevitable, human!"

"For honour and for my people," Mordeau screamed, "I am not afraid of you!" he took a step backwards, before slamming his entire frame forward once more. The contrast of blade and hammer ceased, as Louise sidestepped, while Mordeau continued the swing to slam into the girl's lower stomach. Both hands of the girl came up to parry.

The hammer ricocheted back, while Steelmourne came up to swing down on the man. Holy symbols of the Founder adorned his chestplate now, but a bit of gold and silver made no difference.

It wasn't supposed to make a difference.

"THE FOUNDER PROTECTS!" a knight screamed, charging at her with his lance and slamming it straight through her sides. She screamed from sheer agony as the lance cracked and broke within her, before blood sprayed out of her mouth and sides.

"I killed you once," Mordeau remarked holding his hammer near her face, "And yet you came back…_how_?"

"You'll find out," Louise laughed. "You will all find out in the end," she ground her teeth and pushed her shoulders backwards. The lance's bits emerged from her flesh bloodied and to bits, as her wounds began to heal. Her left hand thrust forth just as Mordeau's hammer came down for her face.

Green light left her fingertips, but the hammer absorbed it as it crashed against the girl's now broken limb. Yet, as Louise rolled away, Mordeau could see the shattered fragments of bone disappear from the ground as the heathen's arm reformed slowly.

The knight that had impaled Louise spun around, unsheathing his sword.

The horse neighed.

Mordeau clenched his warhammer tightly.

Louise snickered and called forth Steelmourne, who came to her waiting hand twirling in mid-air. Her mantle billowed in the wind of war, as ashes and the stench of rot filled the air.

Her blade shone cerulean and misty vapours, her eyes narrowed to slits.

"By the end of the day, _this city shall fall_!"

"I am not afraid, unholy cur!" Mordeau snarled back. "Fresh men came from La Gramont! Our knights are strong and many!"

"Maybe, maybe they are," Louise chuckled. "But for every death of yours one more shall rise upon my command," she twirled her blade and slammed it in the ground, as unholy crimson light began to seep through the cracks in the ground.

"_**FROM THE VERY HEAVENS AND THE UNHOLY HELLS! SPIRITS OF THE DECEASED, I BIND THEE BACK!**_"

With a trembling sound, the corpses themselves rose once more.

Both of the Undead and of the Living, as crimson light shone through their very being.

"_**Animate the Dead**_, Steelmourne," Louise whispered as the souls of the deceased left her sword, slamming back in the bodies of those close to her and bringing them to her side.

"Founder's mercy…" Mordeau whispered in shock.

A glowing red guardsman dashed forward, slamming his sword against the shocked knight nearby, who could barely parry it before falling on the ground. The creatures freshly resurrected pounced on him in a moment, as Louise's blade rose from the ground wielded by the girl herself.

Pointing its tip at Mordeau, Louise smiled.

"Now, let us end this…you will make a fine addition to the Fallen once I will be done with you."

"Never," Mordeau hissed back, swinging his warhammer forth. "_I WILL NEVER SERVE YOU!_"

Louise's own blade thrust forth, as sparks once more came through the friction of the two weapons colliding.

"_**ALL. SHALL. SERVE. ME!**_" Louise screamed back, and locked in the battle as she was…

She did not see the doom coming from the skies.

**Author's notes**

**Hanger. Cliff-Hanger. Doom-Hanger.**

**As always, I suggest music. Potentially interesting to note is that this entire chapter was written in less than an hour, using ThePrimeCronus one hour playlist (recently uploaded too).**

…


	20. Divide and Conquer

An Acolyte of Zero

Chapter Twenty

Karin landed abruptly in the courtyard of the Academy, her wand slicing thoroughly the head off a Necromancer, before her familiar carved with its paws a path through the zombies in front of them. She charged ahead, conjuring a tornado of air to lift the enemies in front of her, before sending them to smash against the walls of the central tower.

Where could that…that monster hold Marianne prisoner?

She descended from her Manticore with a swift movement, before dashing inside the tower. The hallways were deserted, practically abandoned and filled with grime, dirt and blood. The smell of blood was second only to that of rot, and even then, they both mixed to form something utterly nauseous.

Her steps slowly brought her to where once she had learned her magic, they brought her to the empty classrooms now filled with strange tools of torture, to rooms that were nothing more than bubbling pits of strange green water and finally, to the spiral staircase that went both ways, up and down.

Dungeons and prisons were generally below the ground, and so she took those steps wand forward, her eyes narrow as she took in the dim illuminated halls that were devoid of monsters. A low, husky voice came from the deepest pits, which soon met with a female and shrill one.

"No, no, no!" it was Marianne.

"For the Spider Kingdom," the other voice snarled.

"No! Get away! Get away from me! Take it away!"

"We are one," the gruff voice hissed.

Karin sped up, going through the corridor until she reached a wide, circular hall. There, her eyes took in a scene that would forever remain impressed in her brain. She felt bile rise to her throat, as the disgusting entity that stood at the centre of the room turned to look at her. Karin gagged; the rule of steel forgotten for the monstrosity that now wobbled forward.

"Karin?" the voice of Marianne whimpered to her, her upper body was half-naked and standing from a lower deformed half of a monster on multiple legs. Insect-like wings spread from her back and lower half, as if she were a scarab-like creature. The connection was in the middle, where the Queen's belly button showed itself tied together by thick looking steel wires, as pulsing masses of flesh glowed a sickening green light.

"What…what…Marianne?" Karin's voice came out cracked.

"Ah, so you have come, Karin the Heavy Wind," a male voice spoke then, coming from a crimson robed man who wielded a dagger in his right hand. "Very well…let me present myself," he made a mocking bow. "I am Louis, Acolyte of the Fallen…and Queen Louise's familiar."

"You?" Karin hissed, her wand now settled on him.

"KARIN! LOOK OUT!" Marianne's voice came out as a shrill scream, forcing Karin to duck as the lower scarab-like half charged to cleave with its scythe-like limbs at the Heavy Wind. "Karin! Karin, please help me!"

"Marianne! What have you done to her, you freak!?" Karin snarled.

"We have freed her from her mortal flesh," Louis spoke firmly, "And made her into a herald of the Fallen. She is now a Crypt Lord…maybe Crypt Lady would be better," he corrected himself, "And from this moment hence will serve the one true Queen."

"Listen to me you blasphemous heretic!" Karin growled, "You will tell me how Marianne can be saved now, and I will spare your life. Or you will…" she ducked as another scythed limb came forth, one that nearly cut her head off.

Marianne was crying as she found herself fighting against her friend. "Karin…Karin, please…" she sobbed repeatedly, as her scythes and her limbs kept moving without her consent. "Kill me."

"That will not save you," Louis remarked, his hand gesturing to a Dark Altar in the back of the room. "Nothing will. The grasp of the Fallen is now tightly upon your soul, that you resist the powers of my Queen for the moment means nothing. Soon, you will fall like all the others, and soon…you will rise again, more powerful than ever."

"I heard enough," Karin stated, and then she thrust her wand forth to call down a magical whirlwind of blades upon the Acolyte.

When nothing happened, she paled.

When a growling, enormous creature with dark crow-like wings and piercing jade eyes prowled forward from a corner of the room, she felt the drain on her willpower for the first time. Two crackling staffs of electricity stood in the hands of the creature, whose upper half was vaguely humanoid, while the lower part resembled a horse.

"Let me present to you the might of the Fallen," Louis bowed once more in mockery, as he brought his right arm to the side to present the creature that seemed made of stone at his side.

"Let me show you, what a Destroyer can do."

_Louise_

The Dragon Knights of La Gramont roared down the flames of hell itself from the mouths of their steeds, the ground itself turned to ashes as she jumped backwards, avoiding the hammer of Mordeau and pulling herself behind an animated guardsman.

The summoned undead held his shield high, letting the fires pass over its body and shielding Louise from their blast. The heat was unbearable, as her mantle took fire. She hastily gripped pulled it away, freeing herself from the cloth and then standing back up…just to see the army close to her reduced to cinders.

Crypt Fiends flung their webs, trapping down the occasional Dragon or Griffon, but there were just too many spells being fired right back at them, too many to properly counter.

"It is over, heathen!" Mordeau yelled. "Your army will be nothing but ashes when the Knights will be done with it!"

"Ah…" Louise exhaled slowly, "Ah…" she turned her gaze towards Mordeau and smiled. "Let me ask you…who do you think is screaming in pain?"

"Uh?"

Fire covered the Crypt Fiends, burning them and turning their bodies to nothing but charred husks. The Necromancers flailed, before falling on the ground in an eerie silence. The Ghouls fought on, their claws on fire and uncaring of their unlife coming to a stop. The Abominations didn't care, their giant cleavers mowing through the humans with renewed glee as the corpses still kept on falling from the skies.

The ones screaming…were the humans.

The dragons had breathed their fire down in lines. It was preposterous to think there would be no one caught in between. The ones screaming, the ones that burned and flailed, those who tried to turn off the flames that ate at their skin and melted their faces…

Those were the living.

"Then again, the life of a commoner means nothing more than one less serf on the land," Louise continued arrogantly. "Your worth is meaningless, and your life…has no value."

Mordeau did not answer as he watched another guard roll on the ground, trying to remove a melted helmet from his face and failing. His screams, the agony in his voice…it was beyond what he could bear to hear.

Mercifully, a monster cleaved his head in half, killing him on the spot.

"Captain Mordeau!" a musket-wielding woman barged on the scene, holding her weapon pointed at Louise and soon followed by a dozen of other women, all with guns. "We couldn't stop Captain Wardes from sounding the charge!"

"Ah," Mordeau muttered. His gaze still locked on the burning men.

"We're pushing them back…you," the musketeer pointed her gun at Louise, "Drop your weapons!"

Louise chuckled as she watched the guns lined up against her and her Animated Creatures.

She gave a single glance towards the red guardsman to her side, and then nodded.

Her creatures charged, as she turned and ran leaving behind the living man and women, heading towards the Academy. Louis had told her there were prerequisites for certain things to 'unlock'. If the opponent had creatures that could fly, then they would unlock creatures that could block their flight.

It was a part of the 'Protocol'.

She hoped he'd come through quickly, because not only were they at a numerical disadvantage, but the Gargoyles were being torn to shred by the Dragon's nimbleness in battle. The undead creatures fell by flocks, falling down on the ground like flesh sacs and exploding outwards with sickening green blood and guts.

"Louis, where the hell are you!?" she screamed as she stabbed the back of a guardsman, one of the few that had avoided the onslaught of the flying dragons.

"I am occupied with your mother, Louise," his voice came back pained. "She is still putting up a fight. The Destroyers however are coming."

Destroyers? She hoped their names rung true. An Abomination collapsed on the ground near her, smashing down on a group of lancers that screamed as they suffocated beneath the burning flesh and acrid stench.

Louise would have prepared fighting her mother head-on, but with this tactic, she'd break her, which was all that mattered.

A Necromancer summoned two skeletons that the Griffon Knights tore down as they dived towards him. Their beasts shredded the old man to bloody chunks, before turning their crimson beaks to their next target. Louise hissed as she slammed the side of her blade against the shield of a scared man, cleaving him in half.

There were too many of them. Hundreds of zombies burned, while the Ghouls were now nothing more than desiccating corpses. The few Crypt Fiends that remained had bundled up behind the Abominations, throwing their acidic spit randomly in the skies. Gargoyles shredded wings with their talons, but for each Griffon or Dragon they managed to bring down, ten of their numbers fell to magic.

Then, finally, she saw what she had been waiting for.

A ray of electricity shot through the air, bursting apart an Abomination in one clear hit.

There Wardes was, on his damnable griffon flying through the air and striking down her troops. She jumped out of the way of a fireball, dashing across the ground littered with corpses. "THROW ME AT HIM!" she yelled to an Abomination, who understood her mental orders in the blink of an eye.

Louise's feet landed on the cleaver's flat side, before the Abomination roared and pulled the weapon upwards. The next instant, Louise was airborne, Steelmourne in her right hand.

"WARDES!" she screamed, swinging the sword in an arc with all the strength she could muster. Wardes spun his head sharply, but it was too late to avoid the blow. Steelmourne's blade rent the flesh of his familiar's side, tearing it apart as Louise began to fall.

The Griffon plummeted to the ground, the blood spraying out of the wound too fast to stop it. The beast died before touching the ground with a sickening squelch, its corpse the only thing that stopped the knight from suffering the same fate.

Wardes gagged as he emerged from the feathered body of his dead familiar, his head hurt and he could feel blood in his mouth. He fumbled for his wand and then looked around his surroundings. It was a small square with but a fountain and many charred and torn apart buildings. He knew that the Heavy Wind had torn them apart to have a better view with the cannons mounted at the Palace, but without buildings…

There also was no way to hide.

Louise's sword came crashing down against him, and only his reflexes granted him the time to bring up his magically reinforced wand to parry the blow and let the blade slide harmlessly on the ground as he hopped backwards.

"Louise…how?" he began, eying the unblemished woman in front of him who just couldn't be the same that had flown in the air and then crashed on the ground. She should have been dead, or certainly not able to fight anymore with such grace!

The fact he was actually considering her trying to kill him graceful…he swallowed the ashen taste of his saliva, before thrusting his wand forth for a lightning lance.

Her blade parried the blow, as the electricity cackled and flew through her entire armour. Louise hissed as she felt the pain and the head of the magic flush through her body, the tingling sensation and the unresponsive muscles slowly mending themselves back.

She had to be more careful. It was obvious one couldn't parry thunder…she should have known better. She wasn't supposed to make mistakes like these any longer…they had planned it all out, this was her part of the deal.

Louise clenched tightly on Steelmourne, her grip slowly changing as she brought the blade behind her back and flexed her knees.

In that time, Wardes finished his chant.

Four copies of Wardes appeared, crackling with lightning, their wands pointed at her.

"I will make this quick and merciful, Louise," he said softly.

"When I attacked the Princess, you did not shield her body with yours, but you ran," Louise retorted calmly. "Your failure doesn't even bother you?" she added. "You were not with the students who evacuated, Wardes. You weren't even scouting ahead for them…You simply left them to their fates," she smiled. "You're nothing more than a hypocrite coward, Wardes."

"What do you know," he hissed back. "What do you know of me?" he snarled, his clones' wands emitting sparks.

"I don't need to know anything about you, Viscount Wardes," she replied, "To smell the taste of fear within your soul. You are afraid, are you not? What if this attack won't kill her? What if I cannot kill her?"

She charged ahead then, swinging Steelmourne in the air as one of the electrical clones jumped in to counterattack, sending lightning magic to cross the blade. Louise pushed her shoulder forth, before flinging Steelmourne in the air and grabbing the clone with her bare hands by his sides.

The sword twirled in the air, shining for an instant as the sun's glare reflected on its surface.

"Let me tell you, Wardes… that killing _me_ is your last of problem."

Then the screams came from the air.

"An Acolyte has no limit to the numbers of Crypts he can summon. The Crypt has no limit to the number of Gargoyles it can summon, provided the resources are there for it. My army does not need to breathe, eat, drink or rest. What takes weeks for others only requires days for the troops I possess."

She smashed the clone of lightning with her bare hands, feeling the pain as the electricity rushed across her body, wracking her up in spasms. She bit her tongue until all that she could taste was her blood, and then laughed.

"Your wounded tie you down. Your dead aren't replaced with new troops. You have evacuated the civilians of Tristania to La Gramont, and I have conquered that city. You have hundreds upon hundreds of soldiers and nobles holed up in here…but let me tell you," her eyes glinted, "That I have _tens of thousands_ Zombies pouring in from the entire countryside." She laughed, her voice rising as she gripped the falling Steelmourne once more.

"And I just gave them the signal to pour in from _every_ side."

Wardes felt his heart miss a beat.

"How long, I wonder…" here Louise licked her lips, "_Till you all fall?"_

Ten Gargoyles swooped down from the skies, the carnage in the air slowly but surely coming to a halt as the Mages retreated to recharge their willpower, and the steeds tired and ducked too slowly for the fatigueless Gargoyles.

One of his remaining lightning clones began to chant for an Air Hammer, but when the claws of the undead beast sunk deeply into its chest, it burst apart in electricity. The smell of burnt fur and rotten flesh reached Wardes' nose, just like that time in the past.

That time he had so sincerely wished to forget.

_It's all a big fat lie, Jean-Jacques. It's all a lie…all of this is a lie! Don't run from mommy Jean, dearie…Don't you dare run from me!_

The last of the clones thrust his wand in time to push back the flock of beasts, and as Jean Jacques turned and sped towards the Palace, he found the road barred by an Abomination.

"Us hear and obey," the mass of disgusting flesh and rotten insides snarled, its giant cleavers coming down on the ground as he hastily ducked out of the way. The hook parted next, its curved tip sinking deeply into Wardes' sides. Jean screamed as the hook went back up, rending his sides and scattering his guts all across the ground.

He gagged, as the pain was too much for him to suffer through; blood sprayed on the ground, his eyes closed…and darkness, sweet and merciful darkness, finally clouded his senses.

Louise exhaled, the Gargoyles lumbered back on their talons, clicking and hissing to Wardes' corpse on the ground.

She had done her part.

"Louis?"

No reply came.

"Louis?"

She asked again.

_No one answered her._

"Louis! Answer me! _**Now**_!"

Only one word came back to her senses, as the Gargoyle flock lifted her in the air and sped up towards the Academy. Only one word haunted her mind along the entire way.

_Louis_

The steel rapier tore through the body of Queen Marianne with extreme grace. The face of Karin the Heavy Wind was dark, her eyes shone murderously as her steel mask clattered on the ground. The woman then dashed across the ground, agilely avoiding the Destroyers' maws as one by one they fell to her piercing thrusts.

She aimed at their eyes, and the eyes broke. She aimed at their staves, and they shattered. She avoided their blows; she danced across the floor until one by one the numbers aiding Louis dwindled down to only him.

Her rapier came forth then, and his dagger swatted it aside. The runes on the back of his hand shone, but when the blade came down again, when the thin steel rapier pierced through his sides and stabbed him in the heart, they shone no more.

"This…" Karin hissed as his sight began to darken. "Is for what you did to Marianne."

She pulled the rapier free, before kicking him in the stomach and sending him to fall on the ground. Blood pooled around his body, as his right hand jerked to his wound. He lifted the bleeding hand to his dying gaze, and with his last breath, he exhaled.

"_Louis?"_

_He felt so cold._

"_Louis?"_

_The Great Beyond wasn't this cold._

"_**The justice of the Grave, Acolyte… you shall…"**_

"_LOUIS! ANSWER ME! NOW!"_

"_F…fail…failed…"_

_He…had failed._

**Author's notes**

**Cliff Hangers aren't evil. They bring spice to the world. They bring everything nice. They bring hatred and angst in the universe.**

…**Next chapter, Epic Clash! (at least, let's see how the muse goes)**


	21. The Justice of the Grave

An Acolyte of Zero

Chapter Twenty-One

The Gargoyles dropped her inside the courtyard of the Academy, just when a figure emerged from the doors of the central tower carrying a mutilated upper half of a body. The upper half of Marianne's body, delicately held by the arms of Karin the Heavy Wind, was pale. Her skin looked like snow, as the skies ahead began to darken.

Louise unsheathed Steelmourne.

Karin gently lowered Marianne on the ground. "It will be but a moment, Marianne," she whispered to the pale corpse.

Then she stood back up, and watched as Louise screamed and charged ahead, with murder and fury in her eyes.

"YOU MONSTER!" Louise shrieked, as Steelmourne swung. This wasn't about hypocrisy. This wasn't about being enemies. This wasn't about it being a battlefield. This wasn't about the Rule of Steel. This wasn't about battling for the undead, or fighting for the living.

The reason, the simple and sole reason Louise Françoise charged with fury, the reason she charged without care as thunder cracked apart the skies, was that her mother had done the only thing, the only, unforgivable, thing.

She had taken away once more something of hers, something she valued, without any care, or consideration. Louis was her _first_ friend. No fake smiles, no honeyed words, no forced service…he had chosen her, whereas he could have not. Her shattered mind didn't care to remember the tiny details of him trying to leave the summoning area, it didn't care to point out about Henrietta being a friend too. It didn't care, and she didn't care to remember.

She wanted her mother dead. She would have her mother dead.

The blade crashed down on the ground, cracking it apart as crimson light poured out from the fissures and tore apart the very foundations of the Academy. Walls splintered and cracked, the towers trembled as the giant gems broke and shattered to fragments.

"THIS. IS. MY. POWER!" Louise screamed, "DIE, MOTHER!" Her speed increased, her fury rose. She dashed across the landscape feeling the wind press against her face; she jumped and twisted in mid-air, sending her blade forward. Karin ducked the blade by a thin margin, and found herself flung away by the massive movement of air that followed.

Steelmourne shone as ice sailed through the cracked ground and up the crumbling towers and walls. Her heavy boots held, as she cracked the thin sheet of frost with yet one more charge. Karin barely brought up her wand, her magic flowing back enough to grant some resilience against the incoming blows.

Sparks appeared as Steelmourne swung to the left and to the right, rhythmically and savagely uncaring. Louise's onslaught continued; her face devoid of any reason, filled only with madness and screams. Her eyes did not shed tears, but her very soul bled. The two met once more in a show of strength, and Karin's boots clicked against the ice that slowly began to engulf her feet.

"You. Killed. Him. You. Killed. Him." Louise rambled, "I will finish you myself, mother! I will show you the true meaning of pain! I will bring my might down upon you and your men! I will show you no mercy!"

"What you did is unforgivable, Louise!" Karin suddenly screamed back, her left hand ploughing through Louise's defence and punching her in the face. Her helmet absorbed the blow, but the distraction changed the course of the assault.

Karin pierced Louise's shoulder with her wand's magic, and soon Steelmourne became the shield against the Heavy Wind's attacks. Louise took a step back.

She took another, then a third.

"DEATH COIL!" Karin avoided the blow, gripping Louise's outstretched hand and punching it to her side. The bolt slammed against the ground uselessly, as Karin's elbow came to impact against her daughter's lower abdomen. The right side of Louise flared in pain, as she felt the strength behind the blow. She barely ducked down afterwards, as the wind blade emerging from Karin's wand flung her helmet in the air.

Her pale white hair flew in the gale that had picked up. Her cerulean eyes met the dark ones of her mother and with a snarl, she ignored her pain; Louise slammed her entire body against her mother's own.

"I AM THE QUEEN OF THE FALLEN!" Louise yelled. "I am the Void's Champion! I am the Void's Chosen! I am the Founder's Heir! I shall unite these lands and complete what you all could not do! We will rise to grace! We will claw our way towards the heavens! We will fight through hell, tear apart all obstacles, and in the end, we shall conquer our rightful place! If there is a god that makes us suffer so much, we shall find him and gut him!" her right leg slammed into her mother's left one, just as Karin's own rapier stabbed her in the armpit of her left arm.

"Gah!" Louise hissed, from the pain rather than the wound.

Karin took that moment to take another step back, before sharply whistling.

"You don't get to leave, mother!" Louise yelled, pouncing on her and thrusting Steelmourne forth. She avoided the blow as her Manticore came crashing down from the skies, and the moment her wand flung an Air Hammer at her, Louise charged.

Her own momentum battled that of the Air Hammer, until with a ferocious snarl she swatted away the magical attack and ender her swing by _decapitating the Manticore_. Blood sprayed on the ground as the familiar of her mother fell down limply, its body twitching one last time. Karin screamed, and in that instant, Louise's eyes widened.

Her mother had _**screamed**_.

Then a massive tornado of air fell from the skies, swatting her away as if she were nothing more than a minuscule ant. She felt air leave her lungs as the pressure crushed her ribs and made her gag, blood pooling in her mouth as the blades sliced at her armour leaving behind deep gashes upon it. Where the wind passed through, wounds opened and blood sprayed out thinly.

She felt her sight grow darker as she dropped Steelmourne on the ground tip first, to use as an impromptu crutch.

Then she gasped for air, watching with a tired expression her mother touch delicately her Manticore's dead body.

"My familiar served me for more than twenty years, Louise," she spoke then, her voice cold and now uncaring. "Marianne has been my friend since I was ordained knight; the bond I shared with her is the same as the one you shared with Henrietta. The bond between your familiar and you is the same as the one between me and mine." She croaked out a wretched sob, which soon died as her eyes narrowed to slits.

"_**Your pain shall be legendary**_, mother," Louise snarled, clenching firmly on Steelmourne. "I will make you regret the day you fought against the Fallen!"

"You think you can stop me, Louise?" Karin retorted bitterly. "I am Karin, the Heavy Wind! I fought off thousands of Germanians and held the line! I was the Commander of the Manticore Squadron! My name echoes feared throughout all of Germania!"

"It does not matter what you were, mother," Louise hissed as her blade shone. "What matters, is what I'll make of you once I'm done tearing your soul to shreds!" and with that fierce scream, Steelmourne itself began to burn as Louise charged once more.

The fiery flames of the sword forced Karin to recoil, as Louise swung the blade and released a fireball from its tip. The ball of fire passed close to the Heavy Wind, and then detonated against the outer wall of the Central Tower. The explosion rocked the entire building, as pieces fell on the ground with heavy thuds. Karin tried to avoid the falling rubble, trying to dash out of it…but Louise did not grant her that opportunity.

Ferociously, with the rubble of the now cracking apart tower falling over their heads, Louise fought while screaming, her yells incoherent if not for the molten rage that poured through her very soul.

"You always were an obstacle, mother!" she shrieked. "Always an enemy! Always an opponent I couldn't defeat! You always made me feel weak! Unwanted! Even Cattleya, sick as she was, was better than me! You always told me! You always looked at me with disgust! I was your failure wasn't I!? Hadn't it been for father, I'd still be at home, hidden away from the rest of the world! A little failure caged and jailed forever!"

She screamed more, as her blade sliced through the air with speed beyond the human limits. "I always wanted you to look at me for once with pride in your eyes! I always wanted you to recognize me! And what did I get!? What did I get from you, mother!? Scorn, hate, insults! I was first of my class but it wasn't enough! I needed to cast magic! I was the Zero, the failure of the family! My eyes bled from my efforts, and yet you shattered my hopes with your reprimands!"

She snarled, this time her blade passed through Karin's guard, slicing her chestplate as her mother barely managed to get away from a more serious wound by rolling to the side and then standing back up, just as a chunk of the roof fell near her.

"LOOK AT ME NOW, MOTHER!" Louise screamed. "I AM NO LONGER A FAILURE, AM I!?"

Then, the impossible happened. Her mother looked at her, she looked at her and then her eyes were no longer slits or filled with rage and anger. They held _sorrow_.

"Louise…_I'm sorry_."

Karin's eyes softened as she whispered that, her gaze went down and…and she dropped her wand on the ground, soon followed by her rapier.

"No, no," Louise croaked, shaking her head. Steelmourne still in her grasp, she pointed the blade at her mother. "You don't get to act like a mother _now_. Not now, not now that…that…_you can't act like this now!_"

"Louise, I'm sorry," she whispered, her voice filled with grief. "I just wanted to see you safe, Louise. I always wanted you safe. I wanted you to become strong willed, to never have to rely on others…I wanted you to be the best, and…and I was wrong in the way I did that."

"No, you're lying…you're lying, you're not…the Rule of Steel…"

"I only ever told you about it," Karin murmured, "I never forced Cattleya, or Eleonore. It was only you…because I saw myself in you. Out of all my daughters…you were the one I cherished the most," her voice cracked as a sob emerged, "The one I still cherish the most."

"M-Mother?" her own voice quavered.

"This…if all this is my fault then I'll pay the price, but please Louise, please I beg you…don't take your anger out on the people of Tristain."

"D-Don't talk like that," Louise's body shook slightly. Why was she trembling now? No, this wasn't supposed to happen. She was supposed to be fighting. She was the Queen of the Fallen. She would win. This was…this was supposed to be a new beginning.

Silence fell between the two, as Louise's breathing suddenly felt too noisy for her ears. She took a step forward, and then another. Her mother closed her eyes, and even went as far as recline her head to the side, to expose her neck.

Louise shivered. This…She brought up Steelmourne. She gripped the handle…She prepared the blow…she…

She dropped the sword and fell on her knees, tears streaking down unbidden from her face.

"I didn't want this!" she screamed, punching the ground. "I didn't want this to happen!"

Two arms embraced her, and for once in the middle of the blood, the rotting flesh and sweat, she smelled her mother's perfume. It made her feel at peace.

"My poor child…" Karin whispered, grief lacing her every word. "I'm _so sorry_…"

Then the dagger struck, piercing straight through Louise's upper spine, at the base of her neck. Louise's eyes widened in shock as Karin's face kept her softness. "You grew up to be a beautiful woman, Louise…" she whispered, "But I cannot let you threaten Halkeginia with your existence. After you die, I'll kill myself…and then we will find our redemption in the Founder's arms…" her voice was so soft, so peaceful…like when she used to coo her to sleep, or when she talked to her after she had a nightmare.

Then a blade stuck through Karin's chest, with runes shining a golden light. Her mother gasped, and gurgled, before the Runeblade pulled out and then swung down, slicing her neck.

Only a headless corpse now hugged Louise, as her eyes dropped down.

She felt her body about to fall, but strong arms gripped her and with a sharp jerk, someone removed the dagger from her back. "Death Coil," a male voice, so familiar to her, whispered gently touching her face.

She opened her eyes then.

She opened them, and stared at Louis.

Only, this time, Louis wore her same armour, and a Runeblade stood with its edge bloodied on the ground near him.

"You're alive?" she croaked out, her eyes widening.

"My vengeance is yours," he whispered. "My Queen, what are your orders?"

"Louis…" she slowly stood, helped by him. Her armour clinked against his, and as she recovered her breath, she stared straight in the eyes of a skeletal horse not much different from hers next to her own.

"We do what we must," she whispered. She gave one last look at the headless corpse of her mother, and then climbed on her horse as Louis did the same for his. "Let us go…we'll talk more about this later."

Then she kicked the flanks of her steed, with Louis following her closely.

They rode out of the Academy, just in time to join the massive army that poured in from the gates of Tristania.

Without the Heavy Wind, without their Queen, without hope…Tristain would soon be hers.

"THE FALLEN SHALL RISE!" she bellowed twirling Steelmourne, as the chorus of moans and snarls echoed all around her.

The final stretch was near.

She could win this.

The hole in her heart however…was it really worth the prize, suffering such agony?

_Eleonore_

"Mother really thought about everything," she remarked, looking from the side. "Did she expect my failure?" shaking her head slowly, she eyed warily the captain of the ship. He was a Gramont, and like all Gramont…he was flirting with Cattleya.

Not that she was bothered the man didn't flirt with her, but it was unbecoming of a married man to do this. She slowly walked towards the two —Cattleya needed to rest, not talk with a married man who had a lecherous gaze —when something caught her attention. It was a tower.

A large tower, one which she would have recognized everywhere as one of the Academy's towers but…but it wasn't supposed to be there.

"GRAMONT!" she snapped at the man, "Look! Where are you sending us!? We have to go to the capital, not to the Academy!"

Rancis de Gramont turned around, before quickly extracting his spyglass and moving towards the ship's side. He stared through the tool ahead of him, and then stilled.

Eleonore's gaze turned to perplexity as she watched him pale considerably, before slowly removing with trembling hands the spyglass from his face.

"A-ALL MEN TO BATTLE STATIONS!" he roared then. "ALL MEN, TO ARMS! TRISTANIA IS UNDER ATTACK! THE CAPITAL IS UNDER ATTACK!"

It was as Eleonore's gaze went back to the tower, that she saw movement below it. When her very own eyes adjusted as the ship drew closer, her hands clenched tightly against the wooden guardrail. Her legs felt heavy like lead while her knees wobbled from fear.

The very same monsters that had halted their advance so bloodily were now pouring in by the thousands all throughout the land. The trees were rotten remains, and beneath their dead branches walked rotten corpses moaning and snarling.

Massive golems of flesh walked with giant cleavers, as catapults flung corpses against the walls of the city itself. Eleonore could watch no more and slowly, silently, she made her way to her scared sister. She delicately held her by the arm and then carried her towards their room, where she sat down and quietly prayed.

She prayed to the Founder that whatever evil was drowning in blood and death Tristania would cease this mindless conflict and leave. She prayed…

Cattleya soon joined her.

"Founder Brimir, who lives up high in the sky," she began with a child's prayer. "Please, look after me who am pious and faithful," her voice echoed through the room, before it drowned beneath the high-pierced screeches and…there was a trembling noise all throughout the ship.

"THE WINDSTONES ARE FAILING!"

The screeches grew louder. "What the hell are those things!?"

The ship began to roll. "We're losing altitude! EVERYONE WHO CAN, ON THE MOUNTS! GO, GO, GO!"

The screams came even stronger as she held on to Cattleya and dashed outside. "Sister! Wait!" Cattleya's voice filled with panic, as she tried desperately to hold on to Eleanore's sleeve to still her. The ship rolled, Eleonore screamed and managed to grab onto a rope. Her shirt's wrist…

Ripped.

The ripping noise echoed in Eleonore's ears as suddenly the weight she had felt on her arm disappeared, and the chilly sensation of the wind gave her Goosebumps.

"Cattleya?"

No answer came.

She moved her eyes to her arm.

The shirt had ripped by the sleeve.

Cattleya had held her by the sleeve. The sleeve that was missing, the sleeve that was supposed to hold a missing Cattleya wasn't there.

Cattleya wasn't there.

She had fallen down.

"Ah…" Eleonore mumbled, "Ah…Ahhhhhh!" she screamed and cried, desperately holding on to the rope even though she didn't deserve to, even though she should just die for what she had done! If she hadn't pulled Cattleya along, if she hadn't forced her to go outside and see, if she hadn't…it was always her fault, wasn't it!?

She was the eldest. She was the one responsible for them all!

She wasn't supposed to make mistakes!

The next moment, she let go of the rope.

It was better to die, than live a life filled with mistakes, with regret. To live a life…where she was nothing more than a murderer.

Powerful paws grabbed her as she fell, a Manticore holding her and still her fall.

"No!" she trashed. "NO! Let me go! Let me go you brute!"

She began to cry. "Let me go!" she sobbed. "Let…me…go…"

The Manticore didn't.

The ferocious Gargoyles of Northrend however, seemingly heard her plea.

They tore down the Manticore in half, their talons clawing the wings of the beast away as the creature fell, slamming into the ground with a sickening squelch. Eleonore felt the crash on her entire frame; she felt the corpse of the Manticore hit the branches of a tree and then the bark of another. She felt her entire body scream in agony as she fell and rolled on the mud-filled ground.

Then, mercifully, it stopped. The pain stopped and she exhaled.

She coughed, her eyes closed.

Why was she still alive…

_**Why her?**_

**Author's notes**

**Battle Done. Louis Has Powered Up…and the Justice of the Grave shall be served.**


	22. The Bitter Taste of Victory

An Acolyte of Zero

Chapter Twenty-Two

"They said Romalia's capital was built in a single day," Louise spoke as she watched from her steed the Zombie hordes wobble forth, past the rotting ground that the Academy's attack had caused. "They say it will never fall. They say the same of Tristania, of the Church," she chuckled.

"It's the final stretch," she looked back, to the Meat Wagons pouring forth followed by the Abominations. Their heavy corpses, their fleshy steps on the ground echoed with a certain music she could not comprehend. Whispers rose from the Obsidian Statues, caws came from the Destroyers. Ghouls snarled and dashed, Crypt Fiends hissed and trudged forth.

"What have you done with Marianne, Louis?" she asked then.

"She can still be resurrected."

"Then do so, but not now," Louise added. "Do so when she can see it better," she smiled. "When the full glory of the Fallen shall Blight the land and scour her castle. Do so when no hope will remain onto her."

"What is your wish concerning your mother?" Louis asked then, "What of her corpse?"

"Burn it," she whispered back. "Let none bring her back. Let her rest, forever. Seeing her face again would just anger me more," then she wielded Steelmourne and yelled to the top of her lungs, as the Necromancers settled their ranks further behind the rest of the Fallen.

"STEEL YOURSELF! FALLEN, YOUR QUEEN CALLS TO YOU! Tonight, as the light of the sun dies at dusk, the only brightness shall come from the burning palace of Tristania! HAVE NO MERCY! SHOW NO FEAR! FOR THE FALLEN!"

Then, Louis added of his own accord with his voice rising strong next to hers.

"FOR THE QUEEN OF THE FALLEN! FOR QUEEN LOUISE!"

The roars of the Abominations opened the charge, as Louise's own steed charged forth. "Take the right flank Louis! We shall meet again within the palace!"

"MY VENGEANCE IS YOURS!"

Louise flattened her body against her skeletal steed, taking in the air whipping against her face, the Ghouls increasing their paces beyond normal to follow her. The Abominations ran on their wobbling legs, the Necromancers stumbled to follow her. The Crypt Fiends began to jump to keep up with her.

Then her horse jumped beyond the rotten ground, as she twirled her sword and flung a fireball forward. The spherical flame slammed against the ground, just as the cannons roared their own grape shots against the incoming hordes. Gravel flew in the air, the Abominations roars lost themselves in the mix of screams.

She did not cease her charge, as an Abomination flung its right cleaver to wedge itself against members of a cannon's crew. Screams soon rose as wizard chants came next. The Gargoyles dived from the air, picking lancers and flinging them upwards, their brethren devouring them in mid-air.

Blood sprayed on the ground as Louise held on to her steed, which jumped beyond the line of pikes settled at the entrance of the palace. Bullets ricocheted off her armour, her helmet, her steed. Her sword came down in wide swings, blood spraying as her horse neighed.

Behind her, the ghouls charged. Their teeth clattered against the steel shields, their bones shattered beneath the maces' swings. Louise watched with cold eyes as she kicked the flanks of her horse and pounced on the Nobleman on the other side. A wand rose from his hand, but too late did he begin to chant. She brought down Steelmourne and rejoiced as the blade sliced neatly the arm off, before thrusting the tip through the man's chest.

"Your reign shall fall!" she roared, as a blast of fire passed harmlessly over her head. "And from its ashes," a corpse rose back up as twin skeletons, one of which stabbed the nearby man. "A new Kingdom shall rise!"

A ground mallet soared through the air directed towards her, but an Abomination pounced ahead and took the blow in his stomach for her. It growled. "WE ARE FALLEN!" it roared, before gripping the mallet as a mace and throwing it back. It slammed against the ground, as the surface cracked and split open. The screams of the mages reached new spikes as the Crypt Fiends overran the metallic fences around the palace.

The Zombies poured in by the thousands, thrashing around.

Yet the Knights were nowhere to be…

Ah, so there they were.

"Trying to run away, are you now?" her cold eyes settled on the roof of the palace, where bright fireballs and wind blades kept away the swooping gargoyles. The Destroyers were busy in flocks a bit out of the city. She could feel them scream through the air, she could hear their minds bubble with glee and excitement.

Then she heard the crash. She spun her head to the side, her eyes wide. The ships! The ones departed from La Gramont! She cursed, until she realized why she was hearing the sound of something crashing down. They were falling from the air, they were all falling down, against the ground…against the forest, the buildings…

One landed face first; a ball of electricity from a Destroyer ignited her sails. As the flames erupted all across its deck…suddenly, a bright explosion engulfed it, as it detonated with renewed vigour.

"Why are the ships falling, Louis?" she whispered.

"Destroyers are beings that feed on magic, my Queen," his voice came to her ears as she split the head of a musketeer in half, before twirling Steelmourne and letting the blade slice through the wooden shield of another foolish man.

Then again, the difference between foolishness and bravery was but the difference between failure and success. The doors of the Palace opened wide as a line of wands rose at the same time. She hissed, narrowing her eyes. The moment the volley of fist-sized rocks burst forth in grapes, she shielded her face. When they became petals however, she frowned.

The flowers, carried by the wind, rose all over her troops spearheading the frontal assault. "Are they bringing flowers to their own funerals?" she grumbled, before kicking the flanks of her horse for the charge. The next instant, the petals became droplets.

Droplets of oil, which rained down on her and her troops as the fire mages burst forth more Fireballs. The flames spread, agonizingly washing away with the power of their heat the frontal waves. She snarled, holding on to her steed even as the fire came close to burning her own skin.

She swung Steelmourne forth, and the very fires froze into sculptures of ice.

Another swing and the ice shattered in crystals. She strolled forth, her horse in a trot. Steelmourne shone and emitted fog, its hilt with crimson eyes piercing straight forward as she held onto its handle. She exhaled a cloud of cold vapours, before her cerulean eyes settled finally on the leader of this pathetic last stand.

"Captain Mordeau… Why are you still here?" she asked, cocking her head to the side. "Why haven't any of you realized the futility of your actions!? You will lose and you will Fall! This is no longer your reign! This is no longer the Kingdom of Tristain, but mine! There is no Queen Marianne, no Princess Henrietta! I am the rightful heir of the throne! I, who have killed Karin the Heavy Wind! I, who have slaughtered your very sons and daughters for my own armies! You have nothing, nothing but ashes! Cease your struggles! Cease your arrogance and swallow your pride! Surrender now and I will kill you with mercy!"

"Never," Mordeau replied. "We will never surrender."

"Then you will die, and your body shall join those of the Fallen! You have no hope of winning against me! Desist! Surrender! I am a Void Mage! I am the Founder's heir! That throne which you guard is mine by right!" she growled, "_This land is mine!_ _This palace is mine!_"

"I don't recognize you as Queen, blasphemous monster," Mordeau hisses. "And neither will those around me."

"Your reinforcements have failed to arrive," Louise remarked. "I have thousands of troops, and you have barely hundreds. La Gramont has fallen. No army and no knights in shining white armour will come to save the day. Get it through your skulls! _**You have lost!**_ Surrender and I will make your deaths painless! At _Dusk_, you will all die…if someone wishes for a merciful death, before the sun touches the horizon…step forward to meet your end in peace."

"You know our answers," Mordeau snarled.

"Very well then," Louise kicked the flanks of her horse and trotted back. "Your lines will break. Your bodies will shatter. I will personally shred your souls…" darkly, she took her position in front of her own troops and dismounted from her horse.

An Abomination bellowed, punching its giant belly with his meaty hands. A Necromancer cackled, his animal skull bobbing up and down as he clenched his staff tighter. The Zombies halted; their bodies and limbs rotted away under the darkening sky. The clouds slowly turned from white to grey, to thunderous black. The sun soon drowned behind the clouds once more, as a strong gale picked up.

Louise closed her eyes and breathed. She could hear another steed trot to stand next to hers, and she looked upwards to where Louis too was, albeit he dismounted a moment later to be at her same height.

"You are too kind hearted, my Queen," Louis spoke with bright blue eyes. "Now, however…"

"Let me go!" a voice snarled from behind their lines. "Keep your greasy paws away from me you sick bastard! Let me go! I am a mighty sword! I'm six thousand years old, and you have to drop me now! Drop me!"

"Long live the Shadow," a Necromancer said with an oily voice, he bowed profusely, before presenting a long rusted sword. "This sword speaks."

"I can see that for myself," Louise retorted. "Why are you bringing that thing to me then?"

"Hey! I have a name, and it's Derflinger!" the sword retorted. "And I am six thousand years old! Treat me with respect, kiddie!"

Louise growled thrusting Steelmourne forward, so that the tip of the blade touched the flat of the rusted sword. "I am not a kid."

"To me you're all kids," the sword replied. "Now then, what the hell is going on? Are you a new cult or something? Mind you, I'm a sword but I'm a picky chooser, and as a Dark Artefact I doubt I'd be very intimidating. You want something with more spikes and jagged edges to be considered evil, and I'm not…"

"A blabbermouth sword," Louise deadpanned staring at the now sheepish necromancer. "You had to waste my time for a blabbermouth sword. You realize," she pointed with her sword at the palace. "That I was preparing the charge against the palace? You're giving the living time…melt that sword off somewhere, for all I care!"

"Ohi! Wait!" Derflinger yelled. "Don't melt me! I can be useful! Really! I'll be a back scratcher! Just don't melt me! I wasn't born around Brimir's time just to be melted six thousand years later!"

"Stop," Louise said simply, halting her necromancer from leaving with the rusted blade. "Repeat that."

"Don't melt me?"

"No, the bit about Brimir's time."

"I'm six thousand years old! Of course I was born around Brimir's time!"

"So you know of the Void?"

"The…Void? Uhm…I sort of forgot about that, actually."

"Melt it away."

Just as the necromancer was about to leave once more, the sword rattled and yelled.

"But I know something! Please, don't melt me! I'll be the nicest talking sword ever! And I might remember things!"

"Louise," Louis said then, "We might find a use for him. It might be an upgradeable unit."

"Again?" Louise rolled her eyes. "Fine then," she pointed her sword at the necromancer. "You! Bring that useless piece of scrap to my quarters in the Dark Citadel!" then she turned and looked once more towards the palace. "Time to end this."

Louis nodded, tugging on the reins of his horse to hold it still.

Louise bit her lips. Entering the palace wouldn't be the problem. The rooftop would not be the nobles' last stand, and neither would the inner courtyard. The many windows would end up in shards by the end of the day, so the outer rooms weren't going to hold them back. No, if there was one place where the nobles would all gather in their heroic and noble last breath…

It would be the throne room.

"We aim for the throne room!" Louise snarled. "The Abominations won't be able to get through, but it doesn't matter. Ghouls forward! Zombies advance! Necromancers, follow me!"

With a ferocious snarl, she thrust Steelmourne up in the air. "FOR THE FALLEN! YAH! YAH!"

Louise's boots pressed against the Blighted ground as she ran ahead. Louis followed her, wielding his own Runeblade with ease. She'd ask him about that later. She'd ask him a lot of things later. She watched the nobles bring up their wands, another wave of Earth spells at the ready.

"Destroyers! NOW!" with a roar from Louis, winged creatures dived in from the skies with their mouths open. Magic soared in the air, devoured by their ravenous hungers. In the midst of their shocks, Louise spun swinging her blade in their midst. Steelmourne cut through their robes with ease, blood spraying across its blade as screams rose.

She thrust forth, impaling a woman who couldn't be more than fifty, before kicking her off her blade and pushing forth taking wide swings around her. Louis to her side wasn't any less, his own blade lighter and smaller than hers, and yet slicing off limbs and dropping corpses on the ground.

The Ghouls poured forth next, their teeth sinking in the bodies, their claws slashing away.

The nobles broke their lines, and soon the hallways of the palace drowned in blood and screams. Pushing her shoulder against a door, Louise screamed and charged beyond it, through a marble corridor she had ran across in her youth.

It was a long time before all this, in a time where a blade was not her intention, where a war was not her purpose. She had been pursuing Henrietta back then, hadn't she?

Yet now here she was…charging ahead, and being followed.

She jumped over an overturned table, slamming her armoured knees in the face of a guardsman behind it, before landing with grace and swinging her sword up against another man. The impact sent the man flying, before his back slammed against the wall. She charged forth again.

The pavement trembled, the bullets soared at the end from muskets…and she did not halt.

A bullet grazed her cheek, a line of blood sprayed against a wall. The smell of gunpowder, of rot and blood, filled her nostrils as she kept advancing. A warhammer came down from behind her, but another blade met its descent and stilled it.

Louis held both hands on his blade, parrying the blow of a burly looking man.

"Go forth, my Queen! I'll join you soon!"

Kicking the man back, Louis spun his Runeblade, which created sparks hitting against the warhammer's steel handle. Shoulder pushed against chest, and the warhammer fell backwards before the blade pierced through the man's stomach.

Louis pulled the blade out and then left, leaving behind the man bleeding to his death.

Louise knew where to go. The memories of her youth pushed her forward, as her breathing grew ragged, but not by tiredness. There could only be one person, only one, who still could pose a problem.

The doors of the throne room were open, and within the marbled white room, the remaining men and women had amassed. They all looked scared —news of the loss of their magical willpower had probably been the final drop. Never before had it happened, never before had it been possible.

"I gave you all a chance," Louise stated plainly, as she entered the room. "I gave you all equal opportunity to serve me…and you all refused."

Her eyes moved around, "Where is…"

Then the warhammer, a far more familiar one coated in silver, appeared in the corner of her eyes. She brought up her own sword, and soon hammer and blade met once more.

"Mordeau," Louise hissed as the Captain snarled back at her.

"Now, Agnes!" from behind a column, Musketeers emerged to take up a firing line. "So close, there's no armour that cannot be pierced," Mordeau continued, "And you won't dodge all of them."

"I don't need to dodge them," she hissed. "I just need to gain time! You are all surrounded, and it doesn't matter how many times you try to kill me, I'll always come back! This is a meaningless fight! _You all are meaningless!_"

Mordeau gritted his teeth, before swinging away the warhammer and then charging in with his shoulder first. Louise answered by kicking him in the stomach, halting his charge and then punching his face with her own gauntleted fist. Mordeau screamed in pain as he went backwards, before blindly taking another swing of his warhammer to keep Louise at bay.

Bullets departed them, piercing through her armour and slamming in her body. She raggedly exhaled in pain, moaning and grunting as she fell down on one knee. Gagging for air, as blood pooled in her lungs and mouth, she retched the crimson liquid down on the floor.

"You still bleed and suffer like a human," the female voice, was it 'Agnes' she wondered, said with hatred. "And if you can bleed and suffer, then you can die."

"I'll just be back again in minutes," Louise snarled. "Why can't you all understand this!? Why!? You smashed my head!" she yelled, pointing at Mordeau. "You all have no hope! Surrender! Surrender to my command! Surrender to my power! Why do you insist on fighting a lost cause!? _WHY_!?"

"No cause is lost, as long as one believes in it," with that said, Mordeau's warhammer came crashing down on Louise's head. Only for Louis to roar and charge inside, soon followed by the rest of the Fallen.

"You could have surrendered," Louise whispered, not even knowing herself why tears were falling down her eyes. "Why couldn't you all just surrender?"

Louis' sword pierced through Mordeau's sides, as the man could not turn in time to avoid the blow. The musketeers' firing line opened fire once more, the bullets embedding themselves deeply into Louise's sides and on the body of Mordeau —used as a shield by Louis.

"Gah…" blood oozed out of Mordeau's mouth. "This…isn't…how…"

"No death is ever heroic," Louis whispered with cold anger in his voice to Mordeau's ears. "That is how we fall…how we rise, however," he murmured as he watched life leave Mordeau's body, "That can be pretty heroic in its own way."

The Ghouls clawed and bit. The Zombies moaned and stumbled forth. The bullets ended. The screams echoed, a door opened and a few escaped, one of them loudly screaming to be let go. Louise didn't care. Her eyes weren't on any of those, they weren't on any of the people dying, ranting about mercy or pleading for their lives to be spared.

Her eyes were on the silent man that stood on the throne, with the crown of Tristain held in his hands.

Next to him, the neck sliced, was the bishop of the city.

"Karin died, didn't she?" he asked, his voice surprisingly firm in the moment.

She took a step forward, as around her only the rotten stench of bodies and the iron taste of blood filled the room. Her father was pale, his appearance gaunt and his hair —once golden— was now grey and white, like snowflakes of salt and pepper. "Your sisters were supposed to be on the ships," he added quietly, "The ships that never made it here."

He closed his eyes. "The laws are clear…you will be Queen at my death. Though, would it have changed had my father not been a bastard of the king?"

"No," Louise grimaced, shaking her head. "I would have claimed the crown the same."

"Why?" he asked, his voice cracked. "Why go through this? Why all this misery, this death?"

"Would you have surrendered?" Louise retorted angrily. "WOULD YOU!?" she screamed, pointing her finger at the corpse of Mordeau. "He had no great final battle, father! He died stabbed in the back, like mother did! There is no heroic death waiting heroes, no sort of moral, and no type of hope! I had victory from the very moment I stepped into this town! You could have left! All of you could have left! But you didn't," she snarled. "No, you didn't leave. You called this misery upon yourselves!"

"This crown…is made of copper painted gold, with bits and pieces of glass in between the real diamonds," Centurion spoke next. "You know why, Louise? It is a secret only the royal family knows, but it's not difficult to find out why…think for a bit on it."

"I don't care!" Louise hissed, "It could be made of iron for all I care! It's not the crown that matters, but the loyalty of those who follow you!"

"Though you might become Queen and forget about this, all of this, you must always remember," Centurion said with a sense of finality, "People _do not care_ if your crown is made of gold or copper, if there's glass or a shiny jewel on top of it. They care for the one beneath the crown."

Louise's father stood from the throne and threw the crown aside, letting it fall on the ground and dent itself, dropping bits and pieces and…

_**The sword comes up. It comes to the neck. The neck.**_

_**The vein. The heart beats. **_

"_**What are you doing?"**_

_**Why does he ask? What does he think this is? Does he believe he's…no, it's because he can't believe it. He cannot believe his only…would… lost the central gem, blood marks covering it, lost a jewel to the side…dented, broken…the crown falls.**_

Steelmourne roared as the blade plunged through the neck of Louise's father. It roared and then…then Louise continued her swinging until _it shattered against the ground itself_.

With a deafening explosion, the souls of the dead and the killed by her blade soared in the air, departing towards their heavens or hells.

Louise gagged, falling down on her knees, grabbing a hold of her father's dirty, and blood matted head and face. She bowed her head down, her forehead touching his as she closed her eyes…

_Her wails of pain and her cries of anguish echoed throughout the entire palace._

_Northrend_

Kel'Thuzad bowed to his master, and then left the Frozen Throne. He left it with a small clump of something red, shaped like a heart, but dried and clearly dead.

On the Frozen Throne Arthas sat quietly, his eyes closed.

Now, all that remained was for the girl to _**complete the circle**_**.**

**Author's notes**

**Done. **


	23. Epilogue

An Acolyte of Zero

_Epilogue_

The tombs were beautiful.

If she said so, then they truly were.

They were empty tombs, the bodies inside burned to a crisp, but still…they were beautiful tombs. She smiled, her eyes moving from the potted wilted flowers to the light refracting against the polished marble.

The tombs were beautiful.

She had to stop gazing at the tombs, she had to stop looking at the courtyard of wilted and rotten ground high above in the air, inside the Black Citadel that now hovered over the Royal Palace of Tristain.

A palace, which burned brightly in the night air, as the smell of smoke reached her nostrils. This marked the end of an era and the start of a new one, and she couldn't help but smile before whispering.

"I'm going to do great things for this country, father," she whispered. "See, big sister Eleonore? I'm not a failure," she added to another tomb. "Yes, yes big sister Cattleya, I finally blossomed just like you said I would," she smiled towards her other sister's tomb. "Now I'm a woman, a mage, a queen…"

She began to walk away from the tombs, her gaze hardening with every step she took. "And my crown is a helm of steel, just like mother would have wanted."

She stepped inside the majestic entrance of the Citadel, her gaze moving to the mighty rivers filled with the plague, past the giant abominations that roared to the ceiling. She walked beyond the rows and the lines of Ghouls snarling and walking the pavements.

The shadows filled with the glowing eyes of the Necromancers, the corners webbed by the Crypt Fiends. The dead eyes of the zombies looked morosely forward, as the Acolytes walked around with their robes of teal and light purple.

Gargoyles screeched from their perches, as she opened the double doors that led in the throne room of the Citadel. Obsidian Statues and Destroyers flocked to her side, and as her gaze went to the maps that adorned the table in front of her throne, she watched the entire of Tristain covered in a deep purple colour.

The country was hers now.

With a terrifying screech, Marianne entered the throne room trashing about.

"You monster!" she screamed, "I won't…forgive…"

"Louis," Louise said crisply. "End her suffering now."

"As you wish, my Queen," her Death Knight replied, before smoothly swinging down his Runeblade across Marianne's scarab-like body and killing her on the spot.

"Make sure her soul cannot be used for resurrection, and find another Crypt Lord —one willing and loyal to the cause."

She watched as the body of Marianne bled to death, before her entire frame disappeared in a blinding light as her soul left the clutches of the Scourge.

"Your highness," Louis said then, "We must plan our next campaign," he pointed towards the map. "The Frost Wyrms have been unlocked and are ready for their first use. We are in dire need of resources however; we will not be able to field a large enough army to counter every other country yet…not with the numbers of their own summoned units."

Louise looked at the maps, before her fingers gently pointed towards Albion with a moment of hesitation. "The Windstones dug up from Albion mines make up the majority of imports of the other countries. We can crash their navies down, but I wonder…can we use them to begin with?"

Louis turned thoughtful.

"I will check with the remains of the ships, my Queen," he bowed, "Maybe there is something we can use…like an expansion pack."

"Just…go and check," Louise sighed, watching him leave.

She brought her back to rest on the throne and closed her eyes.

It was over. Truly, she was the Queen of the Fallen. Her fingers tapped on the arms of the throne, her throat hummed a light tune.

The stench of rot became perfume as Louise lost herself to her memories. Her heart throbbed in her chest, sending painful jabs of agony through her entire body as she remembered the sweet moments, the nice bits and pieces of her life, the days of running around the lands of her family without a worry.

The days where she wasn't branded a failure. The days where…where she was 'Little Louise' and it wasn't said in spite, but in kind affection.

Those days were long gone, as tears were all that poured down her eyes.

"They will call you the crying queen if you continue like this, child."

A cold, ethereal voice rose from the corner of her mind. She widened her eyes and gripped on the arms of the throne, before she saw him. A pale-skinned man, with blond hair and kind blue eyes, stood in the corner of the throne room slightly behind a column.

The Ghouls and the Abominations that lurked in the room as her guards did not react, so maybe he was a Necromancer? However, they all looked like old men, didn't they?

"Who are you?" she asked, standing up from her throne. "Show yourself!"

The man did not reply, instead he bitterly smiled and slowly hid himself behind the column once more.

She nearly jumped down the stairs from the throne as she dashed towards the column, before stilling to a frozen halt. Behind the column was nothing and no one. There was no man, no living creature or undead. Simply thin air was all that she saw.

"I'm going mad," she muttered. "Wouldn't surprise me," she added in a low murmur, "And stop talking to yourself!" she chided the next instant. "It's not like there's anyone to hold a conversation with," she grumbled. "Maybe Henrietta was right," thoughtfully, she began to walk outside to explore the rest of the Black Citadel. "Maybe I am too weak to rule the Fallen."

She slapped her cheeks the next moment. "No, no Louise. A weak person wouldn't have burned Tristain's palace to the ground to prove the point. We are strong and we can do this."

"Wazzup!" a Ghoul said nearby, waving at her.

"The ceiling," a Necromancer replied absent-mindedly, before coughing and returning to his vials of chemicals. What were they doing with those to begin with?

Actually…from _where_ did the water of the Black Citadel come from?

The more her mind wandered, the more she found herself doubting what she was seeing. The Ghouls moved and sometimes talked, far more than the Zombies. The Necromancers didn't eat. The Acolytes all seemed to enjoy finding creative ways of dying or becoming undead.

"There goes another one," she muttered to herself as she watched an Acolyte slip on a banana peel —one the man had placed beforehand— and then slam and crack his head apart.

A Necromancer standing nearby began to carry his body away, to resurrect him as a Zombie probably.

She groaned.

It was like being surrounded by lunatics, but the fact was that most of the time they acted 'sane' enough to overlook it. As 'sane' as an army made of undead creatures sworn to exterminate all life was, of course.

Still, everything worked. She climbed a stairway that led upwards, towards her rooms and that insufferable talking sword. It called itself Derflinger, claiming to be six thousand years old —as if it were possible for swords to last that long.

It talked of Brimir however, and as long as it spoke of things concerning the void, she couldn't just throw it away. She would have enjoyed doing that, but she didn't want to risk missing some bit of important information out of her haste to finally spend a nice and quiet night sleeping.

"Hey partner," the sword said as she entered her rooms. "I remembered something else!"

"Good for you," Louise remarked. "What is it about?"

"Brimir had four familiars!"

Louise closed her eyes and heaved a great sigh.

Then she opened them again.

"Louis?"

"Yes, master?"

"How many types of Heroes can we summon?"

"Four master. They are the Dreadlord, the Crypt Lord, the Death Knight and the Lich."

"Very well," she returned to stare at the sword. "I suppose that's right," she added, "Can you tell me more? How did they work, for example? What their special abilities really were about?"

"Sorry partner, I can't remember that bit."

"Of course not," Louise grumbled. "Well, I'll let you know we'll be marching on Albion soon. If you can remember anything by then, it would be appreciated."

"I'll try my best partner," Derflinger rattled out, before falling silent.

His best would simply be silence until the next day, where he'd spout out another short line to avoid being melted. Maybe she shouldn't have so quickly menaced to turn him into a pile of molten scraps if he revealed being useless.

Yes, maybe she shouldn't have been that hasty.

She looked out of the window to the city below, filled to the brim with _her_ _people_.

Rotten flesh and bits of bones showed as the Fallen raised their hands, as if invisibly realizing she was watching them. She opened her window and walked out on the balcony, staring at the hordes that moaned and waved at her.

More were coming in from the countryside as the last few villages fell to the Plague.

Soon, it would be time to march once more.

"FALLEN!" she roared to her people, "WE. SHALL. RISE!"

Lifting her right hand up in the air, she slammed it down once more on the stone guard of the balcony.

"Tristain is OURS! Tristania has fallen! The path has been arduous and filled with many deaths, but now, finally, our glorious ascension can begin! Tomorrow, our armies shall march upon La Rochelle! Our wrath shall cast the heretics who refuse to follow us into hell, and our mercy shall bring their souls into our folds! We are the chosen of the Void and of Founder Brimir! We…will…rise."

The moment her whisper died out, the roar from the massive numbers of zombie made her windows tremble lightly, as a smile settled on her lips.

These were _her_ people.

They would follow her not because she wore a crown, but because she commanded them.

They would be loyal and unyielding. They would obey and gladly die for her.

Because the truest victory…

_**Was stirring the heart of the people.**_

_**The End.**_

**Author's notes**

**Epilogue done.**

***raises hands to halt the onslaught***

**This began as a 'Foz+W3' crossover made for laughs. How my muse derailed it into angst, death and despair I will probably **_**never**_** know.** **Point is, this is where it ends. Why? Because 'An Acolyte of Zero' worked as a title as long as Louis was an Acolyte. He's a Death Knight now, but the centre of the story was never on him, but rather on Louise (I'm sure you all noticed that, didn't you?)**

**So, rather than adding more chapters (and since the purpose of this was simply to write about warfare scenes, which I did to great success apparently) and diluting the story with 'filler' chapters of Louise going to X and then trashing the army Y and then so on…**

**I'll end it here.**

**Mind you, knowing my muse this is just the Heat taking its toll, and tomorrow a new story entitled 'The Death Knight of Zero' will appear magically on .**

**However, I always prefer to have a clear-cut conscience. So 'An Acolyte of Zero' ends here.**

**Hope you enjoyed the ride and the reading, even when it changed from comedy to dark angst.**

**Once more…**

_**Thank you for reading.**_


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